Divine Weekend in Napa Valley

After my fabulous brewery tour, I drove to Calistoga and circled around the small and friendly town center until I found the chamber of commerce. The guy running the office helped me out with recommendations and brochures, and I realized this was going to be an expensive weekend. I had a reservation at a Bed & Breakfast for Saturday night, so the GPS led me to the Bothe Napa Valley State Park to pinch pennies. The ranger gave me a secluded site where I happily retired until the morning.

I had the most beautiful part of the day to spend before checking in at the Brannon Cottage Inn. By around ten I had parked my car in town and bought some coffee. The town center is a lovely strip, with cute shops and restaurants, no chains, and lots of families walking about in the sun. After a couple loops around, I decided it was necessary to try some wine already!

The surroundings were full of vineyards and wineries, so I took route 128 South to 29 on my way to Napa. This was obviously a shared idea, the road was packed with weekenders showing off their Audi’s, BMW’s, and Mercedes’, etc. I blasted the Forrest Gump soundtrack and rolled all the windows down. The day was beautiful, the sky bright blue and clear, with a light breeze to balance the eighty degree heat. One of those moments of genuine pleasure in the present lingered longer than most, and I belted out “San Francisco (Be Sure To Wear Flowers in Your Hair)” through St. Helena’s posh main street. The road wove through vineyards and green hills of lush wine country. I must say, just in case it hasn’t become apparent, this area of the country is easily sliding up the ranking of my favorites.

But I didn’t stop at any tasting rooms. When I drove into Napa, I realized that anything I may know about beer will not help me here. And after talking to some friends, realized firstly that I had better not try to fake knowing anything, secondly that Sonoma may have been less intimidating. When I drove back to Calistoga via the Silverado highway, I parked and spontaneously walked into a candle shop that had a ‘wine tasting’ sign outside. The shop turned out to be home of OnTheEdge wines, which have a partnership with Dick Vermil (the wine with his name on the bottle was the best). The wines were nice (too many zinfandels) but the guy pouring was nicer, and so when I walked up and announced that I needed a lesson, he took my two dollars, told me all about the wines, how to taste them, and invited me to the Volunteer Firefighter Crab Dinner. That sounded lovely, but I wanted to peruse the menus around town first. If you’re curious, the best of the selections was the Dick Vermil Charbono, a decent wine from a grape heretofore unheard of by me.

The Brannon Cottage Inn is just off the main drag in a cozy country setting. On the low-end of pricey, I would certainly recommend this one. A porch wraps around the house, and gardens surround that. My room (The Rose Room, I just love it when my room has a name instead of a number) was charming and comfortable, with a nice new bathroom and an antique bed, just how I like it. Now, one major perk of staying in one of these expensive establishments is the stock of free tasting certificates available to guests. By shelling out a little extra dough for a sweet room, you can save hundreds on tastings. I went to three and saved $60. Upon arrival, Judy, one of the owners, led me around. She explained the meal schedule. She introduced me to the dog, Pinot. Then she looked at her watch, exclaimed that I still had almost two hours of tastings left, and handed me four coupons for her favorite wineries. I decided to skip my shower and made it to three.

Each winery was a deliberately different experience, so that with a certain décor matching the attitude of the staff, wines are well remembered. My first stop was Envy, I recall recently renamed from von Arroyo, and the tasting room was elegant while still welcoming, open although intimate. Judy told me I must make it here because she thought I would enjoy Meredith, the pourer and resident expert. When I arrived there were two parties already talking and laughing. One was a younger crowd, I would guess newly married thirty-somethings, who ignored my two attempts at conversation (I am quiet) but seemed interesting. The other was a bunch of middle-aged cyclists who were in fantastic shape. There was a short and failed conversation with one of these women. While one discussed the women’s gym she owned with the server (which I had passed in St. Helena earlier that afternoon) I thought about how much I miss my gym, a thought that seems to be rising up more often recently…

Meredith was friendly, knowledgeable, and a good conversationalist. We discussed my trip a little bit (everyone at wineries want to know why I arrive alone. This makes sense to me, it’s ok) and she gave me some great tips about wine. First, she explained that although much of the aromas are determined by influences in the vicinity of the grapes, much of what one can detect is determined by personal history: if you have eaten a lot of mangoes, wines with such a fruitiness will be convenient on your palate. I think I explained that right. The company there was better than the wines.

Next was a forgettable but enjoyable winery, where two men were having a grand old time serving up tastings. One was young and casual, the other may have been drinking, or just very relieved to be closing soon. The décor matched the casual atmosphere, with Mediterranean colors and textures. The bar was the only furniture in the tasting room. Two smaller groups dominated the pourers, and I was mostly ignored, which was fine, I knew so little. These wines were less interesting.

Lastly I drove out to Laura Zahtila’s place. She was receiving a bouquet of flowers as I arrived. She runs the winery with a small staff, and shared the probably rehearsed line that the big cellars spill what she produces in a year. I liked her spunkiness, her teeny cottage of a tasting room, and her wine. She told me about starting the expensive and labor-intensive business, losing her partners, then about her dog and her wine. I bought a bottle of her cabernet sauvignon, as that’s the grape supposedly best suited for the Napa valley.

When I returned to the inn I was hungry and in need of a shower. After indulging myself in a little primping, I set off in search of the best place to eat and enjoy wine on my own. I had ruled out the crab dinner when I couldn’t track down any flyers about the location. Judy gave me some suggestions, and I settled on BarVino, a stylish tapas restaurant (“small plates, big wines”) with young-looking staff and a deep bar. That last bit is important for tapas joints because you have to order so many plates. The bartender was attractive in an all-American sort of way, and very sure of himself. So I made him pick out my wines.

Judy told me I must order the brussel sprout salad, so I started with that and the cheese plate. He kindly suggested a nine dollar glass, the Calix Syrah, which I believe came from the Masked Man vineyard, and it was indeed a big wine, but not aggressive, and I liked it very much. Touches of spice lingered, it was fruit forward with delicate tannins for a satisfying, dry finish. The salad was scrumptious, with buttery bleu cheese melting over steamed sprouts, an original experience. The cheese plate included one of the best soft cheeses (Crottin, a goat's milk cheese from California) and one of the best hard cheeses I had had in a long time, excepting, of course, the Tete de Moine I sampled in Denver. This one was the Oldwick Tome, made from raw sheep's milk in New Jersey. Next I ordered some lovely scallops that were incredibly tender but not especially inspired in terms of spices. The wine my server brought was a Tom Eddy Pinot Noir '05. The grapes were grown in the up-and-coming Willamette Valley in Oregon. I wrote "delicious! Great pairing while certainly a big wine. Fruity with hints of cherry, traces of residual sour, then spice for the finish. The wine brought out the delicacy of the flavors on the plate." To finish off the meal I ordered a dessert wine, a Sauterne. The tartness reminded me of pear, and I wrote this "liquor forward without the kick. Not fruity but mellow and somewhat refreshing because the flavors are light. I can taste the alcohol, the wine is restrained here, so the strength is displayed against the more subtle fruits of the flavor. It's a California, the bartender tells me, the wines are of higher alcohol content, so there's no need to sugar them up."

I slept excellently in the aged bed, and woke around 9 for breakfast. I selected this Inn because it seemed to welcome visitors to feel at home, and fortunately I chose well. After brushing my teeth I slipped on a pair of capris and walked barefoot on the porch and into the dining room. Moments like that, when comfort predominates, are treasured on this journey. Now here’s the kicker. I was content with my free coupons, but when I entered the cute dining room (it felt like I was at grandma’s house, except Dusty Springfield was playing as a bonus) the whole experience lived up to its price. There on the hutch were a number of platters of my favorite morning foods. Next to a bowl of yogurt, a bowl of granola with dried fruit, next to that, a bowl of raspberries, a bowl of blackberries, a bowl of blueberries, a platter with kiwi, fresh mango, melon, strawberry, banana, pineapple, and probably one or two more. Then I was offered blueberry pancakes, eggs, and bacon. I accepted a short stack and sat myself with my heaping bowl from the continental selection next to the only other people in the room.

Soon I was chatting with the couple, who were taking a weekend and dreaming of extending it. They were cordial and sincere and from farther North. They even took out a California map to help me with my future itinerary. We talked until there wasn’t much more to say without getting rather personal, and not much time until check-out. I bid them farewell and padded back to The Rose Room, where I showered and killed time til 10:55 when I wheeled all my stuff out to my car and checked out. It appeared to be yet another perfect day, at least as mood and weather were concerned.