Here and There

* (This post contains wine reviews by the world’s least well-equipped wine reviewer. For more refined descriptions, go somewhere else.)

A good friend and I headed up to Napa Valley yesterday. The goals were (how original?)—escape the city, taste some good wines, do some camping.

Just across the Golden Gate Bridge, we were greeted by Summer. Ah, hot hot heat experienced through cracked windows in a moving car. So many memories, of various categories, rush through my mind that I can’t settle on one, thus rendering the experience free of nostalgia, and full of … sweat.

I’m not complaining, but my god it was hot. Note to self: next time, find a place to swim.

We started things off with the usual missed turn, 180 on St. Helena Highway, and back to Silverado Trail to Clos du Val.

A man at the register was nice enough as we walked in, insisting he recognized my friend. He’s mistaken, clearly, but still.

His attitudinal opposite poured our wine, though. It was a typical flight—a Chardonnay, a Pinot Noir, a Merlot, a Cabernet Sauvignon. Five dollars, not bad. But apparently, you pay for service with a smile. You also pay for portions. We decided to split our tastings, based on our need to save money for future travels. Was it that? Was it the fact that we came in with smiles? Was it our age/socio-economic status?

Whatever it was, the woman was terrible. She never spoke a word to us. Not a “this is the blah blah, which blah blah,” not a “hello.” Nothing.

The wine sucked. Especially the Merlot. And the interior design was cold and lame.

On to Chimney Rock, just up the road. Immediately, this place contrasted with Clos du Val. It was well-lit, by natural light, very open and airy, and had warm elements like (surprise) a fireplace and tacky art. Most importantly, the woman pouring for us was a convivial little lady, with a nice, friendly glow.

She made us feel legitimate, in other words.

The $10 flight began with their Fumé Blanc, which was pretty amazing. I tend to only like California Sauvignon Blancs, The rule was proved yet again. Like I noted in the disclaimer at the top of this page, I cannot really go into a detailed description of what notes hit upon entry, or anything remotely fancy. I can say the wine was sweet but not too sweet, that it felt smooth going in and down, and generally made me feel good.

Next was Cabernet Franc Rosé. I neither like nor dislike rosés, but this one was likeable. Not much else to say. Onto the reds.

First, the Elevage, which is a fancy way of saying “Merlot blend.” Merlot grapes are the Tom Cruises of the oenological world—everyone likes them, but everyone also knows they’re a joke. The Cabernet Sauvignon, Petit Verdot, and Cabernet Franc grapes couldn’t save this wine, unfortunately, because, like Cruise, the Merlot grapes took over the ensemble. Thumbs down.

Finally, Chimney Rock’s Cabernet Sauvingon. This wine was strong but palatable. I hate this term, but it was full-bodied and warm. It tasted like red wine should taste. That’s my review.

We left the place with a $20 bottle of Fumé Blanc.

Next was Stag’s Leap, named for the region of the valley where it’s located. This place felt like Disneyland, only with a more palatable product. Upon entrance, you have a choice—portfolio ($10) or estate ($30) tasting. Again, owing to limited financial backing, we had to choose portfolio, and therein, I’m sure, lies our mistake.

Another impersonal pourer, though this guy had at least the semblance of an excuse: it was busy. Still, unlike anywhere else, we got carded, and also had to pay up front. He announced the Chardonnay as he poured it (and it was good), but mutely poured the others. In fact, he stopped pouring before we got to the Cab. None of the wines was fantastic, or even close. Overall, a let down. Next time we’ll go estate.

Finally, we went to Robert Sinskey, which has a nice garden and koi pond out front. They also serve appetizers with their tastings. Nice touch.

We lucked out and ended up with another very personable pourer. She started our “gluttonous” flight with a Pinot Blanc. It was great. Next was Sinskey’s 2004 Los Carneros Pinot Noir, which was perhaps my favorite wine of the day, despite the heat. It might have been that it was paired with a pesto and goat cheese snack. Who knows.

The next wine was their Merlot. No comment. They tried.

Finally (we thought) was a Cabernet Franc. Great, well-rounded red.

Then she surprised us with another appetizer (garden-grown zucchini) paired with the estate Cabernet Sauvignon. Wow.

I won’t bore you with details of the rest of our day. We had a picnic, but only after discovering that Niebaum-Coppola changed its name to Rubicon estate, and began charging a $25 entrance fee. We can’t decide whether it’s to discourage rampant tourism or to elevate the status of the winery and make more money. Or both. But it came as a shock. We only wanted to borrow their shaded parking lot to enjoy our lunch.

We also stopped off at St. Supéry, mostly out of a sense of irony. The highlight, other than the fact that the tour is self-guided, was the sniff tubes. Two stations (white and red), and four notes each. My companion decided to end our visit upon looking into the “olive” tube and seeing, down there at the end of the bong-like plastic tube, a bunch of rotting olives. The remarkable thing for me was how many of the notes (things like bell pepper, oak, berries) smelled like bad soap.

We ended up not camping, mostly because coming into that kind of contact with Americans made us miss the city.

But overall, it was probably my best trip up to wine country. It had everything to do with my company and our 50 percent average of good wineries.

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