I like Anderson Valley. Never heard of it? I bet you haaaaave! Ever drink Boont Amber Ale? It's from there. Ever tasted Scharffenberger Champagne? Also there. Roederer, Brutocao, Husch, Navarro, Greenwood, Standish- ALL there and all delicioso! I believe Sunset Magazine did an extensive article a couple years ago (but only about the provencial side) telling the world just how historical, delicious and um, different it all is. Don't try to just enjoy it Sunset-style. Please take your own spin on it. Golden Eye is wonderful, yes, but it is not the ONLY winery there. And it is just about the most expensive winery in the entire valley.
In my honest opinion, Standish and Husch are quite memorable. Standish is lovely in its rustic persona; it began by growing only pear trees, and now it grows wonderful hybrids, rare french varietals and unique-ly, has a sister vineyard on the east coast which brings depth to one of their lovely reds. I can't tell you everything, as their soulful and absolutely friendly staff will do that for me. I absolutely love Husch firstly because it was the first winery in the valley, way back in the early 70's, and it's initial tasting room (a cabin) still stands and functions, and secondly because they most definitely know their whites. In a valley that looks good in red, its refreshing to find a lovely white as well. Anderson Valley of course, isn't all about wine, oh yes, there's more!
In May each year the entire valley invites the world to it's Beer Fest; leading it to welcome all boozers, big and tall, to just grab a sleeping bag and sleep where they fall. I've only heard great things, one day I'll experience them too. Also, Libby's Mexican Restaurant is delicious, period. You must try it. Locals have told me that they make giant orders and stock up their freezers just before Libby's closes for the winter. If that's not enough to convince you, then you're just not salvagable and so there will be more left for me. ha.
There are two times of the year that I have experienced this great-escape location; summer and winter. In winter, the frost crystallizes on each grass blade, grape vine and roof top, while the redwood-shag hills exhale a majestic fog that dissipates throughout the day. In Summer, the baking heat is avoidable by running to the tasting rooms, but best dealt-with by jumping in the Navarro River; there are some great rocks to leap from and wonderful emerald-colored swimming holes. The water has been perfect since I first started jumping in at age 8.
My absolute favorite place to visit is Hendy Woods Campground; the redwoods sway in the filtered sunlight, the unique stories about the forest hermit are legendary and their campground staff is hands down, the most thoughtful and also kindest staff I've ever met.
The last time I was in Hendy Woods, it reached over 100 degrees during the day and was still 80 degrees until after dark. We set a fire merely for the purpose of lighting up the campsite. After our burgers and beans, we sat there, throwing marshmallows into the flames to watch them explode and told each other ghost stories from our childhood. Just as the first cool stream of air began to settle around us, we began drinking our Husch. There is something about fog settling in summer-dried California grass that goes hand in hand with the flavor in our Northern California wines. Just like the sun, it was light and delicious and then, similar to the fog, it settled nicely in my mouth and rolled slowly behind my tongue. A feeling and flavor I don't plan on forgetting. It was an experience only Anderson Valley could provide.
Lastly, I do want to add that no matter what the season or number of times you've visited, Brutocao Winery never fails to take a nice long pause on their final taste of a port or late harvest Zin (thick and yummy) and hand you a chocolate to emphasize the pleasure of their flavors.
With a place like Anderson Valley, you never really have to leave California for a damn good escape.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
"blue" is the new "green"
Lets go Blue. Green is so last year!
If nobody noticed, we are still at war. Perhaps its just me, but I can't see it in people's faces- any concern about our troops and the fact that we're still killing and dying. If nobody noticed, we are also in a drought. And it only gets worse. As people proudly wash their god damned driveways in the middle of a record-breaking heatwave winter- I see a lack of awareness.
I understand we are drastically under the amount we expect each winter of the precious H2O, but what, we can't ask ourselves to be a little flexible? How about we use record-breaking fewer amounts of water, I don't know, lets compete with the weather to see who expunges less water!?! How come it's California, the state of denial, which is quite populated, that is the only state going through a drought while the rest of the country experiences something quite opposite?
And Oh-Dear-Lord, its so freakishly easy. Turn off your water you idiot. Ah, that was easy.
So let us now forge into a year of Blue-ness rather than lame green-ness, not that anyone was abusing that word anyway, along with; "anti-oxidant", "organic" and "local".
So change your summer complexions to winter style, it will match the new "bleu" a bit better.
If nobody noticed, we are still at war. Perhaps its just me, but I can't see it in people's faces- any concern about our troops and the fact that we're still killing and dying. If nobody noticed, we are also in a drought. And it only gets worse. As people proudly wash their god damned driveways in the middle of a record-breaking heatwave winter- I see a lack of awareness.
I understand we are drastically under the amount we expect each winter of the precious H2O, but what, we can't ask ourselves to be a little flexible? How about we use record-breaking fewer amounts of water, I don't know, lets compete with the weather to see who expunges less water!?! How come it's California, the state of denial, which is quite populated, that is the only state going through a drought while the rest of the country experiences something quite opposite?
And Oh-Dear-Lord, its so freakishly easy. Turn off your water you idiot. Ah, that was easy.
So let us now forge into a year of Blue-ness rather than lame green-ness, not that anyone was abusing that word anyway, along with; "anti-oxidant", "organic" and "local".
So change your summer complexions to winter style, it will match the new "bleu" a bit better.
Monday, January 26, 2009
white wine at Petaluma Cheese Factory
Let me start by saying that about only half of this bottle was consumed, however the entire bottle was thoroughly emptied.
It's mid-Summer and the countryside is humming with insects and drying grass. My boyfriend, Jason and I drive out to the Cheese Factory for a small picnic to celebrate a luna-versary. We first go inside, sample some cheese, grab a cheap bottle of wine, grab some olives and small sandwiches, and then come outside to eat and imbibe.
The food was consumed lackadaisically, the olive pits were spitted and the birds were fed by extra bread. I tasted the wine, which was a pinot grigio by a winery I don't know of, that you can always find for a very good, too good of a price at the Cheese Factory. I think it was mis-stored, mishandled, or just neglected. It was sour. Just for their sake, it was the first bad bottle I've ever had there. However it was hot, I don't like to waste food and I was thirsty, so I kept drinking. So did Jason, but not for very long, since he is more honest with himself. It was bad, so he stopped drinking. But not before he got overly silly by the wine.
I feel something cold on my shoulder, I looked over to see that he is pouring wine, drop by drop, on my shoulder. I immediately tried to make him stop but I suddenly felt the urge to do it too; I wanted revenge. I caught him off-gaurd and spilled some on his foot. In a flurry, some ended up in my ear and then all over his shorts and by the time this story comes to a climax, the wine is shooting up my nose thanks to some fabulous angle he had on me. We were both laughing our faces off, but I started to mix laughing with semi-crying and snorting sounds, while trying to work the wine out of my sinuses.
Let me just tell you: eye-balls don't react to wine all that pleasantly. Suddenly my eyes are watery, my nose is running with pinot grigio and I have the bottle in my hand with about 1/4 cup of wine left. He tried to talk me down, and as our laughs subsided to cautious sounds of turning tables, I felt foolish and sat there, telling him how I didn't appreciate "all of this because I don't like to waste wine" and then some reality check hit me and I thought: this wine really isn't good, Anne, just finish it off and enjoy the wine more by not drinking it at all. Before I could finish the thought, I was more than convinced, and, looking hypocritical, the wine was already flying out of my cup and smacking him straight in the face at point-blank. I tried to get the "up the nose" angle that he got on me, but that didn't work. My aim was pretty good though, and we were both sweating wine out of our pores by the end of the picnic.
I really truly enjoyed the wine. I just don't think it tasted good at all.
It's mid-Summer and the countryside is humming with insects and drying grass. My boyfriend, Jason and I drive out to the Cheese Factory for a small picnic to celebrate a luna-versary. We first go inside, sample some cheese, grab a cheap bottle of wine, grab some olives and small sandwiches, and then come outside to eat and imbibe.
The food was consumed lackadaisically, the olive pits were spitted and the birds were fed by extra bread. I tasted the wine, which was a pinot grigio by a winery I don't know of, that you can always find for a very good, too good of a price at the Cheese Factory. I think it was mis-stored, mishandled, or just neglected. It was sour. Just for their sake, it was the first bad bottle I've ever had there. However it was hot, I don't like to waste food and I was thirsty, so I kept drinking. So did Jason, but not for very long, since he is more honest with himself. It was bad, so he stopped drinking. But not before he got overly silly by the wine.
I feel something cold on my shoulder, I looked over to see that he is pouring wine, drop by drop, on my shoulder. I immediately tried to make him stop but I suddenly felt the urge to do it too; I wanted revenge. I caught him off-gaurd and spilled some on his foot. In a flurry, some ended up in my ear and then all over his shorts and by the time this story comes to a climax, the wine is shooting up my nose thanks to some fabulous angle he had on me. We were both laughing our faces off, but I started to mix laughing with semi-crying and snorting sounds, while trying to work the wine out of my sinuses.
Let me just tell you: eye-balls don't react to wine all that pleasantly. Suddenly my eyes are watery, my nose is running with pinot grigio and I have the bottle in my hand with about 1/4 cup of wine left. He tried to talk me down, and as our laughs subsided to cautious sounds of turning tables, I felt foolish and sat there, telling him how I didn't appreciate "all of this because I don't like to waste wine" and then some reality check hit me and I thought: this wine really isn't good, Anne, just finish it off and enjoy the wine more by not drinking it at all. Before I could finish the thought, I was more than convinced, and, looking hypocritical, the wine was already flying out of my cup and smacking him straight in the face at point-blank. I tried to get the "up the nose" angle that he got on me, but that didn't work. My aim was pretty good though, and we were both sweating wine out of our pores by the end of the picnic.
I really truly enjoyed the wine. I just don't think it tasted good at all.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Chardonnay at Insalata's
It was a brief evening at Insalata's in San Anselmo. A few people ordered the same items on the menu and then there was what I like to call "Helen Keller sharing" where we all ate off each other's plates. I was the only one who ordered the yellowfin tuna, which was lightly seared and sitting in a bed of delicious something with something else delicious drizzled on top. There was a nice play of tangy and salty and the fish separated like butter and sat on my fork like a juicy nugget of fleeting joy. I couldn't eat it fast enough but I couldn't eat it slow enough. It was all so very, very good.
I cannot remember what I was drinking while I ate. That shows you how the fish took the prize, and all my attention. However, near the end of the night, my dad suggested I smell his glass of wine. I took it, swirled it and sniffed. It was light like a viognier with citrus scents, had no trace of barrel, and smelled blossomy like springtime. It was so good I stuck my nose in it for about a half hour. It reminded me of the Wingo White that Larsen's Family Winery sells in unique jugs and named after the historical ferry that traveled up the river to Carneros. Light and playful- like a brunette taking a break and being a blonde for a day.
Then my dad decided to just let me have it- if he was sick I was going to get it by vaccuming up his germs with my nose like that, so he finally said, "yeah yeah, just drink it!"
The taste was not farther back in the mouth like a chardonnay, it wasn't heavy with malalactic acids like a chardonnay and lastly, there was NO barrel! It couldn't be a chardonnay!! It was as deceiving as the J Winery Chardonnay, which tastes more like pear syrup.
Anyway, as it turns out, it was a chardonnay. Probably the first I've ever liked.
I went to the online menu and I believe this was the one:
2006 Franciscan Chardonnay, Napa Valley
I cannot remember what I was drinking while I ate. That shows you how the fish took the prize, and all my attention. However, near the end of the night, my dad suggested I smell his glass of wine. I took it, swirled it and sniffed. It was light like a viognier with citrus scents, had no trace of barrel, and smelled blossomy like springtime. It was so good I stuck my nose in it for about a half hour. It reminded me of the Wingo White that Larsen's Family Winery sells in unique jugs and named after the historical ferry that traveled up the river to Carneros. Light and playful- like a brunette taking a break and being a blonde for a day.
Then my dad decided to just let me have it- if he was sick I was going to get it by vaccuming up his germs with my nose like that, so he finally said, "yeah yeah, just drink it!"
The taste was not farther back in the mouth like a chardonnay, it wasn't heavy with malalactic acids like a chardonnay and lastly, there was NO barrel! It couldn't be a chardonnay!! It was as deceiving as the J Winery Chardonnay, which tastes more like pear syrup.
Anyway, as it turns out, it was a chardonnay. Probably the first I've ever liked.
I went to the online menu and I believe this was the one:
2006 Franciscan Chardonnay, Napa Valley
Friday, January 16, 2009
Humbling Times
There are many things that can cut a man down. Losing his job is one of them. Suddenly your post, station and purpose in life is picked up by the wind and blown away by the economy. I lost my job back when people were still debating whether we were in what is called a "recession"- as it seemed like a foreign and non-applicable word at the moment. Yes; fear, anger, doubt, and all the other negative emotions awaited me at the foot of my bed each morning during my joblessness, as they do for everyone- but I decided to take advantage of that time like a kid in a candy store.
What do you want more? Time or money? Figure it out, damnit. If you want money more, then you'll finagle a way to get it in this newly acquired time. If you want time, then don't forget that. Some people do forget, and they run around like headless chickens looking for another job, all while that precious available time falls through the cracks. When I had my job previous to being laid off, I'd stare outside and long to be hiking, painting or something I figured that was better than what I was doing at that office. The second I was let go, I was relieved. Yes, money becomes a dire issue eventually. Which was why I would wake up early, email 25 resumes a day and call 10 interviewers a week. But by the time the day was getting warm, I was putting on my sneakers and reaching for my camera. Suddenly I had time. Time to do research on different career paths, time to take community classes, time to read, paint, breathe in and exhale and just be able to take in a little perspective.
So remember, the world always seems to be going to hell in a handbasket, ever since "hell in a handbasket" became a coined phrase. Don't let it distract you too much- and don't forget to take advantage of that gift in disguise. For the first time in a long time since I first discovered the miraculous nature of seasons (what age is that-five?), I was able to watch them change before me. And while I walked along puddle-dotted trails and watched the first flowers of spring bloom, I knew there were people just starting their draining day at work, who would be daydreaming of being in my liberated status.
Just don't forget to smell the flowers, they're still there, you just haven't had time to notice them.
What do you want more? Time or money? Figure it out, damnit. If you want money more, then you'll finagle a way to get it in this newly acquired time. If you want time, then don't forget that. Some people do forget, and they run around like headless chickens looking for another job, all while that precious available time falls through the cracks. When I had my job previous to being laid off, I'd stare outside and long to be hiking, painting or something I figured that was better than what I was doing at that office. The second I was let go, I was relieved. Yes, money becomes a dire issue eventually. Which was why I would wake up early, email 25 resumes a day and call 10 interviewers a week. But by the time the day was getting warm, I was putting on my sneakers and reaching for my camera. Suddenly I had time. Time to do research on different career paths, time to take community classes, time to read, paint, breathe in and exhale and just be able to take in a little perspective.
So remember, the world always seems to be going to hell in a handbasket, ever since "hell in a handbasket" became a coined phrase. Don't let it distract you too much- and don't forget to take advantage of that gift in disguise. For the first time in a long time since I first discovered the miraculous nature of seasons (what age is that-five?), I was able to watch them change before me. And while I walked along puddle-dotted trails and watched the first flowers of spring bloom, I knew there were people just starting their draining day at work, who would be daydreaming of being in my liberated status.
Just don't forget to smell the flowers, they're still there, you just haven't had time to notice them.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Art, Wine and Trails
Marin County has a lot to offer and all I've ever done is take it all in selfishly. It's like eating an In-n-Out burger without reflecting on it each day and letting your taste buds wallow in your drool. I want to start this blog to create a dialogue about the things I enjoy most. I love making art for myself and others, viewing art in all the galleries and museums and receiving art from friends and family. I love wine and I'm very opinionated about it- my sister thinks its a joke, she swirls her glass, takes a whiff and proclaims, "...it smells like, uh, alcohol." So its a very short discussion when I keep it within the family. But I was at Insalata's in San Anselmo a few weeks ago and I couldn't take my nose out of my dad's glass of chardonnay- and I don't even like chardonnay!!! And it was at that moment that I felt the need to share these thoughts in other ways with more people. Something tells me there will be more depth involved.
Lastly I love trails. Although biking is a kick and a half, I find hiking (aka walking) helps me the most, as I am essentially there to unwind, think and be. So I'll probably start blogging about nice trails to try and asking others about new trails to find.
And here I go...
Lastly I love trails. Although biking is a kick and a half, I find hiking (aka walking) helps me the most, as I am essentially there to unwind, think and be. So I'll probably start blogging about nice trails to try and asking others about new trails to find.
And here I go...
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