California Dreaming

Dream on...

Currently drinking: Acacia Chardonnay, 2012. Honeysuckle and roasted melon, a full body ride that connects the tongue and anus via jasmine. 

Is this real life? Is this forever? Hell no. 

I woke at 1:00am to Kate freaking out because someone was peering inside of our cottage. To her credit, she was right and we both we're on edge as I walked to the door armed with an empty 2011 Priest Ranch Sauvignon Blanc bottle, ready to strike (in my underwear). The culprit took off, and left us both uneasy for the duration of the night. I'm sure she (as we determined only by description) was just wasted and wanted a hug, or our wine, so we're not too concerned about the lodging for the rest of our trip. Who knows, I may even get a hug :)

After a series of swirling dreams, I woke to my wife stomping in the door around 7 am, proudly wearing the sweat of a 3 mile run. I, on the other hand had a pillow between my legs and my right arm was half asleep... Classy. I shake off the dust knowing I have but one mission in life - to snap a photo of the ever elusive "Bouchon Basket Ninja". This is the person who is responsible for dropping tasty baked goods on my doorstep around 8am whilst I drool pinot onto a goose down feather pillow. At 7:35, I grab the Canon T3 while Kate showers and hit the front porch only to find this:

Son of a bitch! She beat me to the punch, or so I thought... I noticed my neighbor didn't have their basket yet, so I sat and waited. Sure enough the short haired, basket bearing beauty appeared. I was in awe, and for a second I actually considered attacking her just so I could double down on baskets, but let's be honest, no pastry is worth going to jail for (even if it has weed in it). Did I snap a pic or two? Yes. Will I upload them now? No. Why? All I have is an iPad... You'll have to wait til I post the whole album later. I hope this will suffice in the meantime:

Our basket was nothing short of glorious though...

Pictured clockwise from 10:00ish; Sourdough baguette, some sort of sweet bread, a Maine blueberry scone, and the legendary chocolate filled croissant! Also pictured, modest fruit cup, New York Times, fresh squeezed OJ and a bottle of 2010 Chandon. 

For all of you that just called me an asshole outloud, I hear you and I agree with you entirely; I suck and I don't deserve this, but I'm getting it all the same, so enjoy the ride with me. Needless to say, we made incredibly short work of this platter and quickly agreed the chocolate croissant won by a longshot. In the words of my beautiful and well spoken wife, "you can't beat a buttery fucking chocolate filled pastery...", and she's right. As we crushed a few mimosas, she looked at a few vineyards north of us in Calistoga and St. Helena, and we settled on Castello di Amorosa, a big ass castle about 25 mins outside of town. 

The drive was nothing short of stunning. Every California wine I've ever heard of we passed on the way up. It was only 10:00, so the sun was still mild and the tempeture just under 75 degrees. THIS is the Napa experience I pictured that the first two days hadn't yet revealed. With the love of my life on my right, we crept up the driveway in the silver Mustang, alongside Frank Sinatra crooning "My Funny Valentine".

Holy wineshits! 

I'm a midget, 3 topless broads, and a beheading away from eternal paradise. I just pray that the wine is a fraction as good as the view, and for $35 a head, it better be.

There is no way I can possibly reconstruct this fabulous hour long tour with my lack of patience and sub 400 word vocabulary, so let's just say it was excellent and far exceeded my expectations. Our tour guide, Jefferson, was first class awesome and must wield a 9 inch cock as he spoke with the swagger of a guy who makes 94 point wine every time he farts. A few pics from the tour below: 

Kept between 58-60 degrees at all times...

I would have sex with this if there were time and it bought me dinner 

Plastic signs to highlight the ambiance 

Magnums increase the quality of wine as they store comparable oxygen to a 375ml bottle, yet hold two times as much wine. #snootywineknowledgeandshit

My future grave

Outstanding wine/fingernails

I'm bald, she's sexy

The 5 wine tasting was terrific, here is the the rundown of what we chose:

Taste 1: 2013 Pinot Bianco

Taste 2: 2012 Gewürztraminer 

Taste 3: 2011 Zingaro "gypsy"

Taste 4: 2010 Sangiovese 

Taste 5: 2011 Merlot

BONUS! I talked the guy up... Surprise!

Taste 6: 2010 Cabernet Sauvignon 

Frankly, the first 3 I would buy a case of now. The Sangiovese was forgettable, and the Merlot was

...well, a merlot. The Cab had a super fat ass and begged for 20 more mins to loosen up before sipped, but regardless stood strong amongst many $80+ bottles in the Maryland Market.

We left super satisfied and ready to eat. Well, there are a ton of grapes here...

Napa, California: It Begins

It's been 3 years since my last post and much has happened. I bought a house. I got married to a beauty queen. I went to Italy... you know, adult shit. However, those benchmarks never tickled the idea of reopening my blog. After all, I only built this thing to challenge sister's blog in the first place (sorry dukes), yet I never truly disposed of the idea of boasting about my culinary and booze-inhaling adventures. I haven't had a reason or the time to indulge until now. Ladies and ladies with dicks, my muse and infamous return: Napa Valley.

For those unfamiliar with my approach, I enjoy cooking, eating, drinking, playing music, video games, and meeting new people. Anything I write about (no matter how bad the spelling and grammar) will involve some mention of the above. I just noticed how much my second chin sweats when I tilt my head down in 90 degree weather. Yuck. Okay, onto today's post.

We woke to French pressed coffee and a charming basket of fresh pastries from the famous Bouchon Bakery. I'll speak more about this tomorrow when I can get a fresh pic or two, so this will have to tide you over in the meantime. 

Your envy smells of broccoli...

In my eyes, Napa is a notable benchmark for anyone who seriously thinks they value the art of oral indulgence and over-celebration. Truth be told, on first look it's hot, dry, and über snooty. Coping with the fact that I will sooner than later offend the locals, I set a few ground rules for my ever-destructive self.

1. No driving if I have more than 2 drinks.

2. Don't mix booze.

3. Drink at least 1 glass of water anywhere I go (except potty)

4. No food bill should exceed $500 (US)

We hit downtown Napa a mere 3 miles from our abode around 10:30. Kate was driving our silver Mustang Convertible while I tried out the new Canon T3 camera in vain whilst enjoying the retro sounds of Fitz and the Tantrums. Parking was a debacle, not due to lack of spaces though. I'm convinced that when god built my wife he spent a few too many points in the "beauty" pool, leaving the "driving" one a few coins short. This is as close as she's allowed to the drivers seat from here on out. 

Women's rights and struggles aside, we soon found ourselves in downtown Napa, walking around aimlessly and somewhat underwhelmed. Don't get me wrong, the air was crisp, sun was shining, and there wasn't a cloud to be found, but the sheer number of cement mixers and orange tape boggled my mind. Apparently they are "rebuilding" to accommodate tourists by adding Michael Kors and Gucci to the area... Fucking America. I could tell Kate felt similar, so I opted to pop into the John Anthony tasting room to ease up. There we met the chipper soon-to-be PE Teacher, Robbie. Nice kid, poured us some pretty sick reds including a 2010 Cabernet that I would have sold my socks for (the 2 Sav Blancs weren't bad either). We'll probably pop in there tomorrow evening for a bottle and a cheese plate. Excuse my lack of pictures on this one, but I didn't know I was going to pull out the defibrillator for the old blog until we hit...

DON PERICO!!!

(Insert iPhone pic of sign here)

I'll get better about the pics, I pinky swear with your sister. 

Now I know what you're thinking...

"That sounds like my neighborhood Mexican joint where I saw a guy pee on the building once..."

And it totally was! So we had to go.

I know, I know... We flew across the country and spent a small fortune to go to wine Mecca and the first lunch I have is at a no-name Mexican restaurant?! Yup, sometimes you gotta set the bar low. After all, we have reservations at the legendary Bottega (Michael Chiarello's slice of heaven) on Sunday, so do not be alarmed, you will bury your dry eyes in much food porn in the near future. So why did we really go? 

Fun Fact!: There are a gazillion Mexicans in Napa! This was a good bet, and it paid off big time.

We were seated next to the door at a booth that could be easily monitored by the host/manager. I guess they smelled trouble coming in, bad I don't blame them. Kate's smokin hot, and I look loud and unruly, so they kept us close. Kate orders a Tequila Ricky, essentially a Gin Ricky (club soda & lime) but with Mexican happy juice. Me? House Margarita... You can always tell the future with one of these. I've never had a good margarita and bad food (or vice versa) in the same establishment. Drinks arrive and are great, so I'm stoked about the meal. I take this pic of my wife:

God she's hot. 

Okay, food orders are as follows. Kate spots a blackboard advertising $9.50 chicken Fajitas - done!

(Authors note: I just learned what diphthong means...)

I'm feeling heathy, so I decide on the Steak Chimichanga. In case you snort kale and masturbate into trader joe's weak-ass paper bags, allow me to explain how this food of the gods is built. 

Step 1: Build a burrito large enough to fit Chris Martin and Gwyneth Paltrow's baby inside of.

Step 2: Deep fry it. 

Step 3: Add red sauce and cheese. Serve to Carl

Did I just tongue fuck an astronaut on Jupiter? Best red sauce I've ever had, and easily 18oz of steak. Tender, salted and perfectly fatty, I just melted over and over again until I hurt inside. Guac that came with it was stupid too. Flavorful, unlike the "Uncle Julio's" and comparable overpriced crapshacks in our area. Kate's meal was solid and had at least two whole grilled onions on the skillet, corn tortillas and all.  

Carl's Chimichanga 

Kate's skillet and decent teeth

Kate's accoutrements 

Napa. Mexican. The cure for HPV... It's all the same when you're happy and watching the guys on the other side of the window pave the road. This calls for a celebration...

Shots!

Don Julio to be exact, and Tecate to wash it down. 

So much for rule #2. 

Kate stares in disbelief. The bar manager giggles as if you put his balls in cold salsa. Me? I'm just happy I didn't have to be on my 11:00 weekly directors call. 

I shook it off, ate the pinto bean off the table (see full shot pic) and smiled. If not here, where? If not now, when? We so often speak of our wishes in vain...