Shooting the Sh@# @ Chronic Cellars

Day three of "Get out of Dodge before you kill someone," road trip was beginning better than the latter two days. By now, I was beginning to relax and the much needed salt water intervention had eased my stress. It was time to do some serious wine tasting.

My buddy Denise, AKA Road Dawg, had suggested a visit to a small winery named Chronic Cellars.

The winery is located northwest of what is known in Paso Robles as the "Far Out" wineries. This group of tiny axe murderer type domiciles offers some of the most unique wines in the area far removed from city life. The owner/winemakers/body concealers (Just kidding) are twin brothers Jake and Josh Becket, who create some unique ( a safe description) wines with a lean toward Rhone varietals.
Unlike many wineries that load the tasting room with all things gift shop, it was refreshing to see artwork that could have easily been confused with a rampant comic book collectors eclectic tastes. A large  round, booth like couch that could easily seat 10 people  and a pool table also occupied the space.

The room was dimly lit, warm and festive. Good Karma, yes, but where this place truly shined was in the behavior of the tasting room staff. Awesome!
 My host, Kevin, was a true pro at providing a memorable experience. Why was the experience memorable? Simply because, well, unfortunately, the wines were not. Ok, before you go and get your panties in a wad, hear me out. The wine was not bad; a little on the unfocused side, but not bad. Drinkable, but not bad. Cool labels, but not bad.

Being a Rhone lover as well as a blend lover, and letting Kevin know this, he suggested a selection of wines that were in line with my taste preferences.  As he poured the first selection, a blend of Syrah and Zinfandel, I could not take my eyes off of the skeleton on the label. The wine was called Purple Passion. It was dark, definitely purple and well, let's just say that it was uhhh, it was, purple? Kevin could sense that my palate was searching for some hint of a reason to say anything about this wine, but nothing happened. Like a pro, and a very honest person, (he was so nice), he offered the words that eluded me. " A bit varietal unfocused, wouldn't you say?"

Uh, huh, those were the words that escaped my vocal chords. My face must have began to look like the graphic on the label, and Kevin explained how the winemakers developed this purple liquid. My mind went blank during the explanation, but Kevin was so nice. At all times, he was warm, honest and understanding of the effort it took to say something, anything about this wine. In truth, there was not much to say. It was though, very purple. On to the next bottle.

Still in a fog about the first sample, it dawned on me that maybe my mood had something to do with the inability to taste anything unique in the Purple Paradise. When Zinfandel and Syrah are blended together, the flavors play on one another to create a nice dark, spicy fruit forward wine. Maybe the next offering would have something additional to bring out these favorable traits.

It did! The Unteachables; a blend of Petite Syrah, Syrah and Zinfandel. Just what the doctor ordered. Now we are talking. The nose was leathery, sweet and had just a hint of smoke. This would be the one. I could hardly wait to let it flow over my tongue, rest in the deep orifice of the floor of my mouth and tickle the uvula in the back of my throat. Yes, this was going to be the wine that would find it's way into my collection. It was going home, today!

No, it didn't even come close to what my nose detected. Eagerly anticipating the flood of fruitiness, the wine settled limply on my tongue. Kevin could see my disdain and immediately suggested that he open a new bottle as this one had been open more than 24 hours. As he went about doing everything to make me feel comfortable, (he was so nice), a thought bubble must have appeared above my head, and Kevin could read the content; "She is not enjoying this wine!"
As he poured from a fresh bottle, he laughed a little and was completely unapologetic. After all, this is wine tasting, and one cannot expect to like every wine that is available. He simply smiled and offered another selection...which I must say was redemptive.

Suite Petite! 85% Petitte Syrah, 15% Syrah. We are in Rhone heaven, yes? Sort of. At least there was no skeleton on the label. Kevin detected a glimmer of acceptance on my face. I'm sure he was silently saying to himself, finally, she likes...SOMETHING?

Yes, this wine was a more than drinkable. Dark, smooth and full, two of my three favorite grapes played well with one another. The only reason this one did not come home, price. No need to get into that.
 Seizing the chance to make me very happy, Kevin poured another heavy handed sample and left momentarily to greet some guests from Texas. (He was so nice!)

It was time to bring out the ultimate in a Paso Robles blend.
Sofa King Bueno! 75% Syrah, 12% Mourvedre, 5% Petite Syrah, 4% Grenache. This was the wine that Denise wanted me to try....along with Spritz and Giggles sparkling wine. (We're not going to talk about the bubbles)

Kevin returned and was still smiling and taking good care of me. He poured a healthy amount of the wine in my glass and without hesitation described how much he liked this particular wine and it's popularity among locals. As he talked more and more about the wine, I could not help but to notice that the graphic on the label reminded me of Norman Bates' mother in Psycho. There was not much in the way of flavor, but the dryness of the wine was appealing...and Kevin was so nice.

After visiting more than 200 plus wineries in the last three years, it is expected to not enjoy every wine that is consumed. It is also acceptable to disagree with a winemakers style, and many winemakers value the feedback that customers give. It is however NOT cool to insult a wine. The wines at Chronic Cellars were different, not bad, just different. (and that's okay!)

 The time spent at Chronic Cellars was an exercise in learning to be in disagreement with the taste of a wine, and to not blow the disagreement out of proportion. During this visit, any disagreement was remedied by the treatment received and the attitude of the people who work in the tasting room. Kevin was a true professional. He could read my body language and offered the opportunity to sample several wines above what was being poured that day. The tasting fee was also waived. (That was so nice!) This said to me that he cared, or that he feared that I would slam him and the wines in this blog. (Nope!) His honesty, generosity and knowledge of the surrounding area were impressive, but what impressed me most was his steadfast support of the winemaking team at Chronic Cellars. The more he spoke of them and their passion for what they do and how they do it, it was easy to accept that this was just one of those wineries where nothing really appealed to my taste. (and that's okay!)

 Would I suggest a visit to Chronic Cellars? Absolutely.  I give Kevin two big slaps upside the head for his outstanding customer service. (He was so nice!)

When in Paso Robles, visit Chronic Cellars. Bring your pool cue and a sense of adventure.

Until next time,
Salute'

Another cool place in Cambria!

Picking up where I left off in the last blog, I walked over to this place to escape the smell of charred animal flesh. No, I'm not a vegan or a vegetarian; I simply do not like the smell of seared meat on a near empty stomach. The cheese, crackers, apples and pretzels devoured at Wise Owl were rapidly being converted into sugar in my stomach, and the overload of carbs only made the hunger worse. Sensing that I was either going to pass out or attack a tourist, the phrase "gourmet foods" caught my eye on the sign for the little shop of horrors called, "Fermentations."

Shop of horrors? Hardly. Gourmet foods? Lots of carbs in this place. (Just what I didn't need) The array of food stuff consisted of various jams, spreads, dips, and other high carbohydrate loaded goodies. Thus, the wine bar would be where my appetite would have to be satiated. (it wasn't)

Brittany was my vinista (made this word up. Just sayin') for the day. She was a recent transplant to the central coast, and her warmth, humility and aaww shucks, golly gee demeanor was delightful. I can appreciate someone who readily admits that they do not know everything and that they are learning on the fly. (Nothing like those uber know it alls who take random road trips to escape stressful situations. I digress) She taught me a thing or two about a few grapes that were not familiar to this road tripper.

Beginning with the white wine selections. For those who are not familiar with this road trippers' palate, white wine is not consumed on a regular basis...regardless of what is being eaten. However, we never say that we don't like something until we try it...unless it has any trace of curry, or was prepared near anything that touched curry or comes from the same family as curry, I digress again.

Anyhoo, Brittany poured a delicious Pinot Blanc from the Sierra Madre Vineyards located in Santa Maria Valley.
Okay, so what is Pinot Blanc? Pinot Blanc is a white wine grape varietal also called Klevner from the Alsace region of France. It is best consumed young and along with Sylvaner, another grape from Alsace, it produces some of the lightest, dry, fruit forward wines of the region. Pinot Blanc vines cover nearly 20 per cent of the Alsace region.

Amazing! Easy to drink and quite tasty. The wine had a peach like taste and was not too dry. Served just a tad colder than room temperature, this wine would be excellent for white cheese, apples, pretzels and crackers. (imagine that) Moving forward.

Brittany suggested the Chardonnay next. Explaining that my preference for Chardonnay consisted of wine that is so buttery and oaky that your lips slide off the glass while you spit twigs, she produced a wine called none other than, "Butternut!" 

Yep, needed to floss for splinters after this one. Buttery, is an understatement. Somebody pass the popcorn? Rich, creamy and just the right amount of fruit forwardness. It's a shame that this one did not come home. Maybe next time.

 On to the red wine. OMG, a central coast Barbera? Why not...or should I rephrase this as, "Why?," "Not!" Oh don't get your panties in a wad, it wasn't that good...I mean bad, really. It's just that the Barbera's from the northern foothills of Shenandoah Valley pack a little more punch. Whereas the Zinfandels of Paso Robles give the high octane fruit bomb Zinfandels of the Shenandoah Valley reason to feel ashamed, the Barbera's of the central coast lacked in all things character. (at least this one did, and two more at different wineries in the area) Just an observation Barbera lovers. Save the hate mail.

Goes well with Marvin Gaye music!

Moving forward. Speaking of Zinfandel. This one knocked it out of the park for me. The name alone gets kudos, "Sexual Chocolate!" Seriously, how could anyone skip this wine? Conceived by two college student buddies, the wine is a blend of Zinfandel and Syrah. The guys bought left over fruit pulp from local wineries and pressed out the juice to make this erotic concoction.
Can we all say, yummy? Fruit forward, cherry, blah, blah, blah, this is an excellent wine and moderately priced. Although it is available in the San Francisco bay area...this what they call northern California, really?, it is a worth addition to any collection. The guys now have a company called, SloDown Wines and rumor has it that they are up to creating some new offerings. Check them out at: http://www.slodownwines.com/contact-us

Liquid Sin

Time for desert! Now we have discussed this before, this road tripper is not a Port drinker. However, Brittany was up to no good when she pulled out a port wine made from Sangiovese. In truth, any wine grape can be made into port style wine. Traditionally, port comes from, you guessed it, Portugal, and was made with six distinctive varietals. (1) Touriga Nacional, the dominant. (2) Tinta Cao, (3) Sousao, (4) Bastardo,  (5) Tinta Roriz, and (6) Touriga Franca.
The process of making port wine goes back a zillion...ok maybe not that far, but dates back several hundred years. True Port is made exclusively in the Douro region of Portugal. Fortification, the addition of a neutral grape spirit is added to wine just before the fermentation process completes leaving residual sugars and elevating the alcohol level. Thus Port wine is by nature, sweet. The wine can be made dry, semi-dry and in a white form.
Enough about the process. Sangiovese grapes which are high in acid created a Port that was semi-dry, but still too sweet for my taste.
 Not to be left hungrier and a little jittery from ingesting way too many carbs, Brittany tried to hammer one more nail into my coffin.

Pairs well with anything!

Uh huh. Yes this is chocolate milk laced with Cabernet Sauvignon. Think Bailey's Irish Cream for the vino types. I wasn't sure what to make of this stuff; Serve it cold, yuck! Serve it warm, double yuck! Buy it and make it a great conversation piece...yes! I have enough  chocolate loving friends who would be willing to choke this  happy soccer mom beverage down.

 So, what would you do with this brew hah hah? Brittany said that she added it to coffee. Hmmm? Stay tuned for more info.

Just as a diabetic coma nearly consumed my nutrition deprived body, Brittany had one last port to sample. By now my eyes were crossed. Had it not been
for two ladies standing next to me who just happened to be from Lodi and knew where any form of protein was available nearby, no more port would have crossed these lips. My taste buds were numb. The only discernible flavor in the wine was pure alcohol and figs. Into the dump bucket with aplomb, Houston, we have a problem. The lights were about to go out like the Superdome during the recent Super Bowl.

Not one to toss the cookies in a crowd, (there were hardly any cookies to toss) we bade Brittany farewell with a healthy tip, acquired a new wine glass and bottle of chocolate yucky, and headed for the door. The smell of searing flesh was no longer present in the air, and I didn't care if curry wafted into my desperately in need of air lungs. I needed food. The two Lodian's, yes, that is what they are called, grabbed me by the arm and lead me to a bakery that thankfully had sandwiches.

The turkey croissant sandwich set my credit card back nearly $15.00. Perhaps a larger than usual tip was added to the bill, and the chips that were supposed to come with the sandwich never materialized. It was good! Lights are coming back on, just need a bottle of water and a nap!

When consciousness and the ability to drive safely returned, Kenji motored us down to Pismo Beach.
It was a wonderful ride with the windows rolled down and the sea breeze blowing through the sunroof. The sun was beginning to set as we drove onto the beach. Neither of us had ever driven on a beach and while observing everyone else move their vehicles closer to the sand dunes, it never dawned on us that the tide was coming in. Honking horns and screams of, "Hey, you're gonna get stuck!" did nothing to deter the pleasure of watching the sunset over the horizon. If we were going to get stuck, so what. Isn't that why we have AAA?

The beach patrollers seemed oblivious to our position and said nothing to suggest we move. As the surf encroached Kenji's tires and soaked my weary feet, all of the stress that had been building in my life seemed to wash away...at least until we realized that the sea water from each encroaching wave was getting a little deeper, threatening to leave us stuck on the muddy beach.

 There is something about the ocean that calms me. It is contiguous, powerful and cleansing. Necessary for spiritual uplift and enjoyed with a good bottle of wine, the central coast offers spectacular beaches and an abundance of good places to eat. Wineries located near the ocean offer a welcome and surprisingly affordable get away when life becomes a bit too much to handle.

Visit the central coast wine region and enjoy the oceanic views. Do it often.
Until next time,
Salute'

I took the road...to Cambria!

Paso Robles, here we come!

Finally, I'm going to treat myself to a small vacation! It has been nearly two years since visiting the central coast of California, and Paso Robles is just the place this weary vino lover needs to go. As Uncle Jed would say, "Boy howdie, I can't wait!"

The plan...what plan? I'm on a mission to regroup and recharge the batteries. Yes, I will visit several wineries, that's a given. However, what I really want to do is reconnect with my first love, photography. No, I will not be photographing the typical tasting room decor with the obligatory wine maker/dishwasher. Nope, I'm going all out. Taking lots of pics of me enjoying myself. Yes, I can photograph myself. Putting that degree to some good use finally! Afterwards, I plan to write about the journey from a less stressed point of view. You see, it has been a tough five plus months, and I need to get back in touch with my values and purpose in life. I do love wine, and I really love writing. Now, to just meld the two together in a way that makes me happy. When I'm happy, I can share with all of you.

Thank you all for keeping me in your thoughts and prayers. I look forward to sharing the next journey.

Karen

Way up yonder at DK Cellars

How often do you enter a winery...at least one that sits literally on top of a large hill in the middle of nowhere, USA, and hear, "Hey, you're Gary's sister, right?" This happened to me a few weeks back while visiting Dave and Kim Pratt of DK Cellars.

To begin with, yes, I am "Tea-tolaling," "Wine is yucky," "I don't get it," "When I die, I'll be clutching a can of Fresca,"  Gary's little sister. Moving forward. Kim at one time used to work with Gary in another life. (I clearly see why you moved to the middle of nowhere Kim) Anyhoo, on this visit, it was not Kim who recognized me, but a different former co-worker of Gary's named Emma who could not wait to tell me how much he bragged about my recent graduation and how proud he was of me. (Kudos for the big bro.!)

Like any appreciative little sister, it was only natural that I wanted Emma to tell me everything that Gary said. (Positive adjectives only.) However the conversation switched to why we both were at the winery, Dave and Kim Pratt; they know how to throw a party, and we were there to celebrate their 12th anniversary with a vertical tasting of their Meritage lineage.

What is a Meritage?
A Meritage; a blend of red and white Bordeaux varietal grapes. Red grapes consist of the dominant and familiar Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Malbec, Merlot and Petit Verdot. White grapes include Sauvignon Blanc, Semillon and Sauvignon Vert which is not too commonly grown in California. Red Meritage wines must be made from at least two of the listed red grapes. In either red or white Meritage wines, no one variety can make up more than 90% of the blend.

The word "Meritage" is a blend of the words "merit" and "heritage," and often denotes a Bordeaux blend of grapes not grown on French soil. Wineries that produce Meritage blends cannot produce more than 25,000 cases of the blend and the wine must be considered a high end offering for the winery. http://www.wineintro.com/types/meritage.html

Dave definitely does Meritage well. Beginning with the 2001 vintage, my cousin and I were treated to a wine education like no other. For a wine that was nearly 12 years old, the 2001 revealed that wine can and often does get better with age. The tannins (These are what often cause bad reactions for the uninitiated) had softened a bit,  but all of the dark rich characteristics of a fine Bordeaux were still present. If you are familiar with the intense flavors of mountain wine, this one would not disappoint. We both enjoyed the noticeable differences of each wine and agreed that the 2002 and the 2005 were our favorites. For good measure, we re-visited each, several times, just to be sure.

To accomodate everyone's palate, The Pratt's poured other wines from their colorfully named collection. (Kim designs the labels) "Short Bus Zinfandel" and "Rattler Red" are two of their easy to drink but very potent offerings. This is mountain wine; virgins need to tread with caution. Another favorite, the Cab-Shiraz blend. Done Aussie style, the wine consists of 52% Cabernet Sauvignon and 48% Syrah. Yummy!

Because this was a party, the Pratt's provided a luncheon of pulled pork sandwiches and strawberry shortcake for dessert. A wine club member who just happens to be a DJ provided the music. We were able to fully enjoy the picnic area and watch as Kim busted a move on the lawn.

Sauntering into the tasting room, a special blend of every vintage of the Meritage was offered for sale by the glass. Maybe because I WAS after all, Gary's sister, a taste appeared in my glass. "Boo yeah!" Now we are talking. What a treat. There are no words to describe this blend...except, awesome! I really wanted to ask Dave more about why he blended his entire lineage for the day. Well, it is his winery, and his wine. He can do whatever he desires. Instead, we agreed that the need to re-visit the food line was becoming too hard to resist. (I was not convinced as to why I gave up pork, seriously) Moving forward.

As we mingled with the other party revelers, it became clear as to why I prefer the small winery as compared to the larger commercial facilities. Dave is a techno-geek who could be described as the poster child for A.D.D. (Wait, that describes me!)  He and his wife Kim began their journey into all things wine by visiting wineries, volunteering during crush and observing how other wineries did the deed. With extension courses taken at UC Davis, Dave turned his close observations into becoming 2007 wine grape grower of the year in El Dorado County. With Kim by his side and often on the tractor during harvest, they have created a winery and a lifestyle that personifies their love of life and passion for wine.

There are a few perks to being Gary's little sister, and meeting Dave and Kim Pratt is one of them. I have visited their winery twice so far and enjoy following them on Facebook. Located in Somerset, California, top of the hill, middle of nowhere, USA, the drive is worthy of a visit. Check out their events calendar often and pay them a visit. I'm sure if you convince them that you too are somehow related to Gary, they will treat you extra special. (If not, you drove all the way up there, have some fun!)

DK Cellars, you done good!

Until next time, Salute'.

Karen

Revisiting Sarah's Vineyard

Living in the upper central valley has it perks. However, the heat factor in Sacramento is not one of them. Let me be more specific; Sacramento heat is akin to Satan's arm pits! Now that you have a good visual, allow me to take you away to a small winery that is nestled along a stretch of Hwy. 152...you know, that highway that goes through, uhhh, and ends up near, uhhh, and eventually leads to the Pacific Ocean? That highway.

A little history about how I/we found this road. The Road Dawg and I were on a field trip a few years back. Our mission; get to Santa Cruz to escape the Hellacious Sacramento heat. Our plan; drive south until we got to, uhhh, oh yeah, Interstate 5 to uhh, that road that goes towards uhh, west, yeah, that's it, west to 205 and then, uhh, was it 580 or 680 south? Anyway, whichever way we went, it was wrong!

For some strange reason, the road looked unfamiliar. I was sure that the sign for Andersen Pea Soup would come into view at any point. This is a landmark that I have always used to navigate my way to Santa Cruz. The road that veers off of 205...whatever it is, cuts a shortcut through the valley and ends up at one of my favorite diversions, Casa de Fruita. Surely we could not have missed such a huge and nearly the only visible sign in the desolation of the central valley? We did.

Los Gatos. Yes, somehow, we ended up in Los Gatos. Not a bad place. The heat factor was at least three, chilly, degrees cooler than Sacramento. I can honestly say that the town was flat, dry and hot. Moving on!

After driving through Los Gatos...which seemed to take forever, we decided to make a U-turn...which meant that we had to drive back through Los Gatos. There is only one road that leads into this hovel and one road out. Neither would lead us to where we wanted to go, so we had to make a few adjustments to get back on track...sort of. (It never occurred to us to use the GPS device on our phones)
Anyway, we knew we had to go west, and the first road in that direction, we took.

Big mistake. Somehow, we managed to end up at a crossroad that gave us two options; left turn, or right turn. Left, more desolation. Right, things were beginning to look a little green Neither looked familiar, but fortunately, we took the right one, literally.
 Hecker Pass Highway! Please do not ask me how we did this. It just felt right to turn right. Besides, the temperature had dropped to a comfy 70 degrees, and we were sorely in need of libation...and valium. (Two lost females in an SUV with no man to blame, not good!) We drove ferociously down this road not paying attention to much. We had five hours of daylight left, no wine, food or any of our usual travel comforts, and we had yet to dip our feet in the calming waters of the Pacific Ocean.

The Road Dawg, a more keener navigator than myself noticed a sign for a winery possibly owned by a female. Hmmm, must check this out. Besides by now we could care less about who owned anything; We just wanted to imbibe.

Entering the gate that welcomes visitors with a view of the vineyards, we drove around the vines which were covered in nets to protect the nearly ripened fruit. I had never seen this type of covering and could not wait to ask questions. We entered the tasting room and were met by the now more common winery dog. Personally, as a dog lover who speaks fluent Doberman Pinscher,(Don't over think it!) I have come to expect to be greeted by a cold wet nose, wagging tail and an expectation of a good ear scratch. When my fellow dog loving friends visit my home, this is the way I choose to say hello! All kidding aside, the tasting room was warm and inviting.

We made our way up to the counter and were immediately acknowledged by a friendly group of ladies.( On a recent visit, I was thoroughly delighted to be served by Megan.) Beginning with a stellar Chardonnay, we found the wines to be enjoyable and easy to drink. The atmosphere was lively and our hosts were informative and attentive. After identifying ourselves as industry types, were were treated to a unfortunately no longer made Syrah Port. OMG! As mentioned before, I am not a Port drinker. However, this one made us retreat to the Road Dawgs SUV to dig up enough change to purchase a bottle. And we did!

New plans began to formulate. We would buy a bottle, continue on our journey to the ocean...we now had three hours of daylight, buy a cigar and enjoy this phenomenal wine on the beach. Yes, it was going to be a good day after all. We still had not eaten, but who cared...we had a great bottle of Port. Food would have to wait.

Realizing that we also did not have wine glasses, ( we have since rectified this situation and keep them in our cars) the winery was kind enough to give us two glasses from a previous event. In my opinion, this was a customer service home run! We left vowing to return some day soon.

With less than three hours of daylight left, we were told that Santa Cruz was 30 minutes west of where we were...unless it is five o'clock on a Friday! An hour and a half later, we were on Hwy.1 driving north to Santa Cruz. The plan, find a place that sells cigars, find a beach, enjoy at least an hour of daylight and watch the sun go down.

No one in Santa Cruz smokes cigars! We looked everywhere, and with little time to spare, we ducked into a smoke shop that kept the cigars...all four of them, somewhere between to smokeless tobacco and the Red Bull energy drinks. Not to be picky, we bought the most expensive one...$9.00, and proceeded to find a beach that was not occupied by volleyball players. We were in Santa Cruz after all, and that huge body of water we were staring at was the ocean. Beaches must abound in this area, right? They do not.
We drove up and down the highway only to find cliffs...lots of cliffs. Cliffs that were high above the water and cliffs that were even higher above the ocean. Where the heck were the beaches? With the sun rapidly descending beneath the horizon, we drove back to the smoke shop which in the first place, was next to the volleyball courts which were on the beach. To our delight all of the players had left. It was nearly dark, and we had a cigar and a great bottle of Port. Let's get this party started!

As soon as the sun goes down in Santa Cruz, the fog rolls in. This is not a bad thing, unless... So, you think you have talent? Try lighting a cigar in the fog. Uh huh, try to see the cigar to light it in the fog. While you are struggling and looking rather silly to the locals who know better, try pouring a glass of Port in rapidly encroaching, visibility altering, fog. Give the locals a good laugh. Keep trying, and once you realize how cold it also gets in Santa Cruz, spend a few moments wondering why you carry jumper cables in your car and not a parka! At this point, we did not care. We hunkered closely together, cupped our hands and desperately forced the flame out that refused to leave Road Dawgs lighter, puffed as if we were on life support and managed to light the cigar. The bottle of Port, which was becoming slippery, cooperated by allowing its' cork to easily be removed. Alas, we were finally going to have a moment to reflect on this eventful day.

As I slid my feet into the still warm sand, and marveled at the sound of the surf...which we could not see due to the fog, it became obvious that the day was not all bad. I had the company of a good friend, a glass of warm libation and the comfort of knowing that my life was on course to better days ahead. To further enjoy the cigar, I slid my glass, stem first, into the sand so that I would not have to hold it. A few seconds later, the Road Dawg and I heard a strange noise that sounded like the "plink" that you hear when a light bulb burns out. There were no bulbs nearby, and although the Road Dawg does have a luminescent personality, she was still intact. We both looked at one another and wondering what it was that we heard. Instinctively, we reached for the bottle of Port only to find that it too was still intact. Weird?

As I reached for my glass to take a swig of the warm, chocolatey, silky Port, my lips seemed to miss the rim of the glass. As the precious warm wine poured down the front of my shirt...which was barely visible due to the fog, but very obviously red, I began to panic. Did this have something to do with the "plink" we heard? Oh Lord, was it my glass? Did I cut myself? Was this wine or blood? Hopefully blood!

No sooner than I took a few sips of this wonderful, warm, succulent wine, my glass, the freebie given to us, somehow managed to explode! A huge chunk...big enough to cause the wine to escape unattended was missing from the glass. Worse yet, the Port, that warm and fuzzy beautiful Port was now all over my shirt and the beach! Awwww Lawd, take me now! In the words of Florida Evans from the iconic 70s show, "Good Times..."Damn, Damn, Damn!"

Not to be defeated, (the thought of turning up the bottle and taking a long swig did cross my mind), we finished the cigar and the Road Dawg was kind enough to let me have a sip from her glass...after she finished snickering no less. We packed up and vowed to visit the winery again...at least to let them know that their wine glasses from a previous event had a minor flaw, and to hopefully score another bottle of that phenomenal Port.

Sarah's Vineyard is located in Gilroy on Hecker Pass Highway. Because the Road Dawg could not join me on this revisit, I decided to map out my journey this time so that I would make it to the ocean before the sun went down. I arrived at about three o'clock and instead of being greeted by a winery dog, I was met by Megan. She was younger than the previous ladies who greeted us originally, but exemplified true professionalism and warmth. As I began my tastings, a young man entered the tasting room and was equally engaging. He was the current owner, Tim Slater, and his sense of humor was infectious.

Tim played the, "Oh hey, I remember you sort of" card and proceeded to make me feel at home. After a couple of compulsory "So you really do know about wine" questions, which is customary when industry people talk...or is it? Hmmm. Tim advised Megan to let me try the wine club releases. Thank you Tim...scratch behind the ears...that's a good Tim..who's a good Tim, scratch, scratch scratch!
The wines were awesome! Tim really knows how to balance his flavors to appeal to a broad palate.

One wine in particular caught my attention. The 2007 "Nuits d 'Enfer," a Merlot with a hint of Cabernet was outstanding! The wine had a good mouth feel and was not too fruity. It was obvious that this winemaker had mad skills. I love a wine that surprises me, and this one did. Because I am not a huge Merlot fan, Tim definitely knew what to do with this grape. More importantly, Tim seemed to not take himself too seriously. All artists have a tendency to let their egos dictate their personalities. Yours truly is no exception. Tim was playful and genuine; a lot like his wines.

Further enjoying my visit, the tasting room began to get busy. Megan was a master at taking care of everyone and never ceased to make sure I was okay. I also took note of how some of the guests were happy that she was working on this day. She poured adequately and at all times had a smile on her face.

I asked about the infamous Port wine and was told that it was no longer made. Bummer! Not missing an opportunity for a good story, I began to tell Megan about the experience of the exploding wine glass on the beach.

She listened intently as I explained what happened. A look of utter disbelief but true concern crossed her face. Like me, she too was amazed at what occurred. She remained professional and empathetic throughout the whole story...and managed to stifle a few giggles. After all, it was a weird situation.

Sensing that she was getting busier, and it was beginning to get late, I asked how far of a drive was Santa Cruz. Megan replied that it was about a thirty minute drive, but because it was a Friday, there would be delays. One of the other guests suggested that I visit one of the wineries nearby. Megan called ahead to make sure they could receive me. Another home run for customer service!

Sarah's Vineyard is located at 4005 Hecker Pass Highway in Gilroy, California.
Now that I know how to find them from Sacramento... Interstate 5 to 580 to 680 to 17 south...do not deviate...stay south, I will visit them again. They genuinely know how to welcome a visitor, and at no time during my visit did my wine glass explode!

Until next time, A Votre Sante!


Karen

We Have Corn!

This time last year, for reasons that are still unknown, my ability to taste and smell vanished. Because of this, many of my beloved favorite foods also vanished due to not being able to enjoy them. Foods such as shrimp became allergy inducing demons to my immune system. Chocolate, which had been a replacement for sex on the regular, became toxic. (Don't over think it!) In short, life was not good. The weirdest part of this situation involved cravings for foods that I hate! Yes, the rarely used "H" word, hate.

Corn! I developed an insatiable craving for this gastro challenging, nearly nutrient deficient, starch laden, funny looking vegetable that, (squeezing my throat) I was forced to eat as a kid. And not just any corn, it had to be, Sloughouse corn. However, before delving into all things wonderful about Sloughouse corn, we must journey back to my traumatic corn infested childhood for a moment to understand why this veggie is so gross to me. (Okay, it isn't any more, but we'll get to that)

Every child has a food that they dislike. Why? Who knows, but I challenge anyone to look back in their life and find the foods that they exuberantly disliked. (Didn't use the "H" word) Mine was corn...especially, clenching my throat, holding back the saliva, creamed style corn! Oh Lord, slap the demon who invented this crap! Seriously, what kind of crack were they smoking? Who in their right mind combines corn, sugar and vomit into an edible substance to be consumed by humans? And who, willingly searches this gruel out, slaps it on a plate next to fried liver, smothered in onions, floating in a vile brown gravy, along with candied yams, rice, and string beans? My father. Yes,  this was his favorite meal, which meant that for many long suffering years, it was cooked often, and served with military abandon. Allow me to delve way back into my childhood. I have two distinct memories of my father's culinary expertise. One involved his mastery of all things Creole. Seafood was consumed, but not every day. (More like major holidays, special occasions, or whenever he felt like cooking it) The other, his penchant for foods that revealed his ultra humble roots in Louisiana. These almost inedible meals consisted of potted meat sandwiches, (Aw hell no, I would not eat these!), Ho cakes, (not a misspelling) which were similar to pancakes, except that they made better frisbees, anything starchy that floated in anything brown and thick on top of a plate of rice. (Seriously, I can remember the first time I ate a potato!) and always, something "good" as he referred to dessert. In hindsight, that something "good' was always something that he liked, and something that we would not eat. (Think grown folks ice cream. Lord, he liked the weirdest ice cream. Black Walnut, Maple Nut, etc.)  If there was any dissent among the ranks, he would rant, "In dis house, you don like what I cook, you not gon' eat!" Needless to say, we ate, lest we had to endure the same meal the next day. Got to love those depression era parents!

Back to corn

As mentioned earlier, a craving for Sloughouse corn had developed during a lengthy convalescence. There was no real reason to desire this corn as I had only eaten once. My in-laws were regular visitors to the Davis Ranch roadside combination fruit/vegetable stand, Christmas tree farm, picnic area, and pick your own strawberry mecca. They would drive from North Sacramento to Sloughouse, fill up the back of a pick up truck with corn, and regularly host "corn" parties where the veggie was boiled, grilled and eaten raw. Imagine, someone eating corn raw? Gross! So, I tried it; at least it wasn't floating in vomit!

Nirvana! The corn was ridiculously sweet and actually had a good flavor. However, after a few bites, childhood memories flooded back, and I refused to eat a whole ear.

Many years later, and a debilitating condition that robbed me of the ability to savor food, I had to have this corn! The good news, it was corn season and they had plenty! Even better news, they had freshly picked ( it is picked all day)...yellow corn; and if you bought a certain number of ears they gave you a certain number of ears free! (I think they are closet Creoles, because we call this act, lagniappe!) Without any hesitation, Kenji roared down the highway towards Davis Ranch.

One year later, and a partial and sometimes intermittent return of the olfactory senses, the cravings for Sloughouse corn never ceased. Because of the proximity to wine country, it would be rude to drive by without stopping and checking in on these good people. Good is an understatement as the Davis family is more than generous with their abundant crop. Two years ago, the family donated 100 ears of corn for a fish fry that was held to benefit my cousin who has Leukemia. The family was and still is eternally grateful for this and enjoyed grilling and eating several ears per person. (Warning, it is possible to eat more than two ears at a sitting...so they say) Grilled, the sweetness of the corn, combined with the char from the grill,  a slathering of soft, warm butter, running down the length of the ear, careening in between your fingers, and eventually sliding down your arm, with a smidge of Red Dot hot sauce, a plate of Red Snapper and a red soda, can you say, "Orgasmic!" Food porn for sure, this experience is better than se- curing a spot at the head of the food line at your next fish fry! (What did you think I was going to say?)

The family has 500 acres of agriculture, and 300 acres is allocated to corn. Yellow, white and bi-color are available. The ranch manager, Tammy allowed me to photograph the inner working of production and gave me a plethora of information. She was warm, friendly and gracious even if she wouldn't allow me to take her photo. According to Tammy, the ranch hosts several events throughout the year. Fruits and vegetables are seasonal and they grow some unusual items as well.

Gourds are grown for decorative and practical use. Tammy informed me that a group of ladies from Hawaii regularly buy the gourds to make musical instruments. Having a childhood friend visiting recently who lives in Hawaii, I plan to follow up on this knowledge.
FYI, there will be a gourd festival in September! Check it out at: zslproductions.net/davisranch

Another interesting item on the ranch is the hydroponic strawberries.

Unlike traditional strawberry patches, the berries are grown in upright water baskets. This allows for more space, a cleaner picking environment, and parasitical control. Folks can come and pick their own using scissors. This keeps the plants healthy and allows for a tidier selection of berries.

Tammy also informed me that the strawberries were unusually sweet and rather large for local berries. Having never picked a strawberry, Tammy advised that if while taking photos, and if the urge to snatch a berry off the vine occurred, to please ask for a pair of scissors. I behaved and only took photos as there was no chocolate available. (Who can eat a strawberry without chocolate?)

The ranch also offers other food items such as homemade jams and jellies, walnuts, pistachio nuts, sunflower seeds, trail mix and cold beverages. It is a perfect diversion on a road trip to the nearby wine country.

The ranch also boasts a picnic area complete with clean tables and a large green lawn. The area can accommodate groups, but please call ahead for specifics. (916) 682-2658.

Lastly, the ranch is also a Christmas tree farm. Located at the northern end of the property, there were several varieties of tree available. From observation, I could see a Douglas Fir and a Silver tip Noble. Having a bit of experience in tree cutting and selling of firewood in a past life, a good friend of mine, Bobby, RIP, used to sell Christmas trees. He would explain that the best trees came from Oregon, and that California trees were cut long before the holidays and would dry out sooner than trees grown in Oregon. In his opinion, the Noble fir was the best tree, and if you could afford it, a Silver tip was even better. He really gave me an education in tree morphology....I digress, and he really loved corn from the Davis Ranch!

Evidence proves that this corn is still eaten in my household. My youngest can hold her own with a few ears. I don't know what is more enjoyable, shucking or eating? Regardless, the whole experience allows people to commune and enjoy the pleasure of eating some of the best corn available anywhere. Is it the soil, or is it a combination of passion that makes this corn so phenomenal? I believe it is a little of both. The next time you are driving up to the wine country, be polite and stop by the Davis Ranch. Ask about the bi-color corn. It is usually located to the far right of the counter. Tammy says it is the best!

Happening this weekend, go get your corn on!

Sloughouse corn, it doesn't get any better than this!

Until next time,

Karen