WOPN 2025: Old Friends

One of the reasons I love going to World of Pinot Noir is that I've gone to WOPN before. Even better, many people I really like go year after year, or go AWOL for a few and then reappear and it's as thrilling as when the magician brings his missing assistant in a flash back to the stage. I love wine, obviously--just count the thousands of words I've spilled about it in my life. But I love people more. And lord knows, we need community right now. So thanks for all of that, WOPN. 

So what to my wondrous eyes should appear pouring at The Hilt table than Patrick Reynolds. I knew he had been working there for a few years now, but he will always be one of Santa Barbara's best bartenders in my head--even winning a Foodie from the Indy way back when--and he started the Farm-to-Bar Tuesdays at Wildcat/Bobcat with Shaun Belway. A man with impeccable taste and boundless creativity, he's always good for a few fun stories along the way, too. Plus, he was pouring Matt Dees' as ever norm-setting wine from The Hilt. This was winning WOPN bingo. (That got reinforced when the person tasting beside me was Don Schroeder, director of winemaking at Sea Smoke.)

It was a delightful flight of nine wines, so I won't write about them all. But some important lessons: evidently the talk around the water cooler, as Patrick put it, is Radian is Chardonnay, Bentrock is Pinot Noir. (Here's hoping I don't have it introduce you to two of Sta. Rita Hill's wildest, most wonderful vineyards.) Or to put it another way, Bentrock Pinot is a dog--"A wine that hugs you--thanks, I needed that!" while the Radian Pinot is a cat, and says, "No love until I kill you." That's all Reynolds. The festive and fabulous sparkling is hand riddled, so Patrick is happy they don't make more of it (it's at 125 cases now). And then the Estate 2022 Pinot, a blend of all three Hilt vineyards (Puerta Del Mar too) and a bit of Sanford & Benedict whole cluster, well, it's not as singularly distinctive but it is all the yummy, and it costs a lot less. Sign me up.

Even more than wondrous moment above, my orbs might have done the cartoon sproing out of my head when I spied Aaron Watty. The lucky of you might remember him from his days as a server at bouchon, or his very small production but high quality Big Tar Wines. Heck, I even wrote an Indy feature about a dinner he once chefed himself featuring his wines back in 2015. But he hightailed it from these parts for a bit, down at The Rose in Venice Beach. So to see him at the Joyce Wine Company Table was a delight. Turns out Joyce took over the rundown Ventana Winery in Soledad in 2020, and has slowly been restoring it, now with Watty's help as an assistant winemaker. 

The winery has a Joyce label that's all priced at $25 a bottle, "fresh, charming, easy drinking everyday wines," as they put it, from Albariño to Syrah. Then there's the Russell Joyce label, higher end, club member only, and also single vineyard goodies. I got to taste two of these, the 2023 Rusell Joyce Pinot Noir from Pelio Vineyard from the hilltops overlooking Monterey Bay on the Carmel Coast. "It brings the salinity I'm familiar with," Watty points out, comparing it to the fruit he knew from Duvarita Vineyard in Santa Barbara County. It was clean, fresh, bright. The 2023 Russell Joyce PN from Cortada Alta I liked even better, a hearty, very typical Santa Lucia Highlands, deep, dark berry Pinot from the highest elevation in the AVA. Watty told a great story of how Joyce could drive grapes carefully down the precipice-edged hill in perfect a little-to-the-left, a little-to-the-right correction balance, earning Aaron's trust, and paralleling the ways Joyce can finesse his way between tension and harmony with his wines.

Speaking of Aarons, it's always imperative to visit Aaron Walker from Pali Wine Co. at WOPN. (Yes, it seems I only hang out with really tall winemakers, now that I think about it, not that you have a photo of Walker here.) I've known him since he served wine in our house as part of the we need to bring it back again Indy series Make Me Dinner (and the unsaid, And Pour Me Wine) in 2013. My apology to him was he was my last table to visit on Friday, and I only hope I wasn't as blurry as my notes of the tasting are. The two big news item he share were that their Funk Zone tasting room was scheduled for a big remodel and that Pali in general is going focus more on their own Sta. Rita Hills vineyard, planted in 2012 in Gypsy Canyon. That direction bodes well based on my taste of the 2020 PN Pali Vineyard that nails what SRH can do; my notes was, "always what you want from where you want." Each of the 7 different clones used for this estate wine is hand-harvested separately and then fermented and aged individually, so Walker and his team can blend and balance as they see fit. That blend is then barrel-aged for a year-and-a-half in 50% new French oak, 50% neutral. The result is 100% scrumptious. Also notable was Pali's last offering from the renowned Fiddlestix Vineyard, a 2021, that practically vibrated with the tension of acid and fruit.

While Aaron Walker gets to focus on Pali's own fruit, Matt Brady continues SAMsARA's fine project--finding the best Santa Barbara sources and making the best wine possible from each. (Note I didn't get a photo of Matt or his wines, so the above image is from the winery's website--I'm such a writer first, or is that old guy first/last, who didn't grow up with social media--thankgod.) He even flipped the Hilt's water cooler script, pouring captivating 2021 Radian Pinot and 2022 Bentrock Chardonnay. Both exemplified what I've come to think of as SAMsARA's signature--each wine will surprise you with the depth of what it brings. I was going to say a kind of Phil Spector Wall of Sound but: 1) no one members what that means ("River Deep - Mountain High" anyone?), and 2) Spector was a crazy, murderous bastard, so why drag him into it. Brady's wine makes you want to contemplate, not kill, and then sigh in happiness considering their profundity. 

Speaking of profound, it would be hard to calculate all the good Karen Steinwachs has done for our region's wine industry. As you can see, she's not afraid to get her hand's dirty (again, not my photo). She's, and this list isn't exhaustive: a director and chairperson emeritus at WOPN; president of the Women Winemakers & Culinarians Foundation (who just had what looks like a great festival and I missed it all and I'm sad--my schedule is too crazy!); kindly helped staff the Santa Barbara Vintners table all weekend while other members off SBV were off in Korea and Japan, trying to build the SB brand there. She's always good for a few incisive quips but what's better, for making gorgeous wines as Seagrape Wine Co. At the SBV table she was pouring a 2022 Jump Up Pinot from Hibbits Ranch Vineyard. Matt Kettmann--speaking of old friends--wrote this about it in his 95 point Wine Enthusiast write-up: "Lovely aromas of raspberry, mulberry and black plum are decorated in complex waves of thyme and pepper on the nose of this single-vineyard expression from a vineyard just east of Lompoc. The zippy palate is brisk with pomegranate and raspberry flavors that are enlivened by sumac, cinnamon and blood orange touches." Exactly. Karen joked, "It includes all the clones [ten]. And yes, Michael Benedict was involved in its planting."

And yes, Gray Hartley of Hitching Post Wines was involved in WOPN. He and his partner Frank Ostini have been making SB Pinot for 40 years. (Heck, that was the year Mike Wallace grilled some rich New York jagoff about his future political ambitions on 60 Minutes.) Gray, ever with a twinkle in his eye, just loves making people happy with wines, and the occasional bad joke. For example, he told me that when people come up and tell him they knew of his wines before an Academy Award-winning film blew them and the Hitching Post restaurant up, he replies, "That's BS," and waits for their shocked expression before following up, "Before Sideways." While H-P's current releases were spot on, it's also good that at WOPN Hartley likes to open up older vintages to help prove SB Pinot manages just fine. After all, most of us don't cellar stuff away, especially given what real estate costs round these parts--square footage has to go to people sleeping and not wine bottle snoozes. One such pour was a 2001 from Fiddlestix Vineyard that was completely unbricked, fresh and fruit-driven to the point you would never guess it was old enough to drink itself. 

Heck, so is World of Pinot Noir at 25. Long may it pour/roar.

Lodestar Whiskey Launches in Santa Barbara

(photo: Sally Peterson)

Whiskey could sort of use a de-stuffy-cation, no? Images of it harken to Western movies (which nobody makes anymore) and hardboiled writers or actors like Dashiell Hammett and Humphrey Bogart.

Lodestar American Whiskey is here to shake all that up.

To start, the project is led by cousins Anna Axster and Wendelin von Schroder, veterans of the world of music and film. Loving the liquor but not crazy about its marketing, Axster says their hope is “to allude to whiskey’s historical roots, but also make it more modern, more fresh, and not overly gendered.”

Care to read the rest then do so at the Independent's site.

WOPN 2025: New Finds

Creature of habit that I am, I'm going to discuss the 2025 World of Pinot Noir Grand Tastings, held Friday, February 28 and Saturday, March 1, using the loose rubric I've leaned on the past few years: New Finds and Old Friends. So here's to the new stuff--at least to me. (Most of these wineries have been around for decades, so all apologies for me not knowing y'all before.) One of the new WOPN things was the above photo--fish eggs for everyone! The bubbles room, aka the Bacara's lower level rotunda, offered briny bubbles of delight too on Saturday. I wholeheartedly approve of this addition. Thanks, The Caviar Co., for providing the scrumptious product. Plus I'm proud I not only remembered to snap a photo (this, as ever, is one of my regrets, not getting enough pictures), but this one turned out kind of cool. I credit the caviar for classingy up the joint.

Speaking of classy, one of the volunteers who made sure only those with VIP wristbands got into the VIP lounge tipped me off to the above pour happening at the Ramey table. Wine Spectator has hailed founder David Ramey as "Professor Chardonnay," so the opportunity to taste a 2012, in large format--sign me up. The wine was noted for its soul on its release, and that's even more so now--it made you feel a bit holy drinking it. Honeyed notes of Meyer lemon, a suggestion of ginger, saline, minerality, such depth. Platt Vineyard is a mere four miles from the Pacific--you look down onto Bodega Bay and can spy the schoolhouse famous from Hitchcock's The Birds. Even better, starlings take over the vineyard to the point the prized grapes grow under nettings. Alas, Platt recently got bought by AXA Millésimes, a French interest that also owns Bordeaux's Château Pichon Baron, Domaine de l'Arlot in Burgundy, and Portugal's Quinta do Noval, so yep, they only play with the best. And will keep that best all to themselves. Merde. But in the meantime, there was this as a testament. Also worth noting, the 2022 Estate Pinot Ramey poured, the first vintage from their own vineyard, Westside Farms, was also a winner, a refined, coastal version of the varietal with a gorgeous perfume leaning into roses all into your noses (so much for the joint getting classed up, sorry).

Now that we're done with putting on airs, let's go to the Wine Australia table. This transition isn't as mean as it seems--we're going to get to some unfortunate folks exiled from England to Oz in a bit. I tasted a dozen wine at the table, not even close to all the ones they were pouring, but here are a few highlights. Fowles' wins a prize simply for having a wine called Ladies Who Shoot Their Lunch. From the Strathbogie Ranges in Victoria, the pourer told a complicated story about why the wine is labeled Wild Ferment--the youngest children doing foot-stomping was at the heart of it. I swear I'm not making any of this up. It's a good representative of the lighter style of Pinot coming from Australia, where things are a bit cooler, of course. (And nothing like the brawny Shirazes one might know from the Barossa.) 

Indeed, what intrigued me the most at the table were wines from Tasmania. The rep joked, "South from Tasmania you've got nothing until Antartica, well, except for some insignificant island down there, I think they call it New Zealand." (Good ANZUS burn!) Everything here is cool climate, and the mountains up the center of Tasmania create a rain shadow effect for the eastern part of the island. So you can get a Pinot like the 2022 from Handpicked in the Tamar Valley, lithe and lovely, rhubarb and strawberry, a hint of white pepper. Or one that was even bigger, the Tolpuddle 2023. I can't beat what reviewer Andrew Caillard enthusiastically wrote: "Lovely pure dark cherry, Negroni, herb garden, star anise aromas with hints of marzipan. Sweet supple dark cherry pastille, strawberry fruits, loose knit lacy/al dente textures, lovely mid palate volume and underlying marzipan roasted chestnut/herb garden notes." BTW, this winery/vineyard is named after the Tolpuddle Martyrs, early unionist who got banished from England for their labor-loving efforts. (How this group didn't get name-checked by the Mekons in "The Olde Trip to Jerusalem" I don't know.) 

And then, it turns out, those long, slow growing conditions also make for a great location for sparkling. Of the few I sampled, I particularly loved the 2011 Brut from Henskens Rankin (a name that sounds like they made Saturday morning cartoons, no?), who, on the back of their bottles write, "We make our wine on an island, a rock at the end of the world." Seventy percent Chardonnay, 30% Pinot, that Pinot gives it a bit more heft and length. It sat six years on lees, and you can tell. So much bready goodness, creaminess, and richness of fruit. Not cheap, over $100 in the U.S., but worth it for a splurge.

Almost as unusual as Tasmania for a spot for great Pinot, Paso Robles. So that photo (from his IG feed and not at the Bacara, of course) is John Lemstra from Jack Creek Cellars. I got to dominate my time at his table because, he sadly only half-joked, "People see we're from Paso and just keep walking." They don't know what they're missing. Lemstra and his family brought the property in 2017, but its first vintage was 2002. Every wine is estate. And there's quite a lineup--a sparkling, Chardonnays, a rosé, Grenache, Syrah, even a crisp and quenching white Pinot Noir Lemstra decided to make after tasting one from Oregon at a previous WOPN. (See the influence this event has?) As for the Pinots, of which they are several, too--they make a small amount of a lot of wines--the Paso heat, even in Templeton, is enough to give them lots of fruit and less of a mushroom character. What's more, almost all bottling consist of solely clone 943, a Dijon clone of which there is little in the U.S., due to its small berries and low yields. So Lemstra surely loves a challenge. His Pinot fights against the natural soft and floral quality of the clone, creating fascinating tension. That's experienced nowhere better than in their top-of-the-line Exodus, named since they "escaped" a previous life in the dairy farming business. Aged in 50% new French oak and in barrel for 15 months, the tannins you might expect get fully rounded by the fruit's natural plushness. A lovely big wine. If you don't know Jack (Creek), you should.

Here's another IG photo steal (note to self: take more photos next year!), of Sheree and Brian Thornsberry (and bonus dog, always a plus) of Innumero Wines in Sonoma. I met Brian over canapés at the Thursday Opening Night party, so was sure to track his table down and did not regret sampling his single vineyard, single clone wines. Innumero (from the Latin meaning beyond numbers--sounds like the best wine experiences to me) sources from topnotch Sonoma vineyards. So you can delight in a picture perfect representation of Green Valley Chardonnay like the 2023 Bootlegger's Hill Vineyard bottling that earned them a double gold medal from the SF Chronicle Wine Competition. Their tasting description nails it: "Aromas of honeyed white peach, tarte tatin, honeysuckle, toasted hazelnuts, lemon curd and lemon zest. The palate is so beautiful and round with bright acidity and notes of lemon curd and satsuma orange zest all the way through." Was also taken by the 2022 Little Boot Pinot Noir. Small yields led this Russian River Valley beauty to be a bit more concentrated, but still well-balanced. Yum. Innumero is also taking it slow, currently producing 1000 cases they hope to grow to 1500. All DTC, Brian insisted they prefer to operate from a sales deficit model. So if you want some, go get on that list. 

Keeping up in Sonoma, I thoroughly enjoyed the wines at Papapietro-Perry. Two couples started making wine in their basements in 1998 and after some help from legend Burt Williams of Williams Selyem along the way, they've ended up making truly distinctive, of-their-terroir Pinots. I was particularly taken with their 2022 Pommard Clones PN that comes from Bucher Vineyards, and Peters Vineyard the Leras Family Vineyards (they bottle Pinots from both of the last two, too). My note reads, "I can't get my nose into the glass enough," that's how entranced I was by the bouquet, the usual Pinot dark cherry, but so much more--plum compote, baking spice, wild flowers. It's as rich and rewarding on the palate, adding rhubarb and black tea and more. Ridiculously robust yet it only clocks at 13.7% ABV. Impressive, unique juice.

OK, you probably came to George Eats for at most a 750 ml taste of WOPN and I've plunked a Rehoboam of words upon you. I guess Pinot is just a muse to me. I do want to offer a few more New Find quick hits, , listed in alpha-order, though:

CRŪ Winery: This Central Coast winery that crafts wine from Santa Maria Valley to the Santa Cruz Mountains poured their first vintage of a stunning 2021 Regan Vineyard PN. It's the vineyard where their winemaker Jose Reyes began, and he clearly has an affinity for it. Plenty of big fruit, but also a dreamy undercurrent of herbs and spice and earth.

Nysa Vineyard: Nysa is where Dionysius was raised, so good name, Dundee Hills, OR folks! Until 2004 they sold their fruit to the likes of Tori Mor and Ancien, but now do their own sophisticated wines--my note cryptically claims, "It makes me feel smarter!" I particularly enjoyed the 2017 Leda's Reserve PN. 

Résonance: Simply put, Maison Louis Jadot in America, specifically Willamette Valley, OR. Sourcing grapes from their own estate vineyards, Résonance and Découverte, and others, their 2022 Willamette Valley PN seemed a bit less Oregon-typical (less earthy-mushroomy), but tasted blind I might pick it as a fine Sta. Rita Hills Pinot, and that's high praise from this homeboy.

Coming up next, Old Friends--WOPN 25.

Burger Week 2025: Third Window and Finch & Fork

 

Once again I had the honor to be an eater/writer for the Indy's Burger Week, and what burgers they are. Third Window! Finch & Fork! Read the whole story and get eating for 10 bucks a burger. And one thing I didn't have space to include--this Third Window burger is a preview of one they will be selling in Carp when the Linden Square project opens.

The County’s Finest One-Off Food Night | Clean Slate’s Just 8

(Photo: Wine Club Marketing Inc.)

No one who has attended a Just 8 Supper Club at Solvang’s Clean Slate Wine Bar would ever, ever say that they just ate. For these exclusive evenings — generally occurring once a month, and plan ahead, as they fill up quickly — offer a kitchen firing at the peak of its creativity, providing an eight-course feast. What’s more, alongside each course are wines, two curated pours per course, from the primo cellar of Matt Kettmann, my colleague here at the Independent and a Wine Enthusiast reviewer. (He warns early in the evening, an army of bottles in front of him, “That’s your job to pace yourself!”) Everyone sits along the bar at the otherwise-closed-for-the-night Clean Slate, melding into one sated, happy food family by evening’s end.

Care to read the rest then do so at the Santa Barbara Independent's site.

Little Dom's Gets Its Fat Tuesday On

You've still got time tonight to get down there, so I wanted to post this quick. As you do want get there. Little Dom's Seafood in Carpinteria is throwing a Mardi Gras Feast that started Sunday and runs through tonight, Fat Tuesday itself. Little Dom's menu already nods a lot to New Orleans, as that's where chef Brandon Boudet was raised. (Just consider his last name and you know he's legit.) On any given night you might order up a chilled Creole boiled shrimp or a bowl of seafood gumbo (that's all pescatarian, down to its stock). 

But for these few truly special days, you get a bunch more options, all provided in slightly smaller portions so you can eat widely without becoming too wide yourself. You definitely want to accelerate into the evening with a classic Sazerac, that absinthe rinse tickling your nose first, but then the sweetened rye, Peychaud's bitters, and squeeze of lemon blend and please. It transports you right to the Big Easy (after all, it's the city that holds Tales of the Cocktail every year).

While personally nothing can ever top sucking down BBQ oysters at Hog Island Oysters right alongside the Tomales Bay from which they were harvested, the ones offered by Little Dom's are a close second. Piping hot hitting the table, they carry just enough of the grill's smoky flavor but not so much to dominate. And then they bathe in luxurious liquor: not just butter but perfectly parceled out amounts of lemon juice, garlic, and Parmesan, and then a double hit of slow-growth warmth--paprika and hot sauce. The balance is beguiling, and you will drink every last drop and be sad for any drip that is left on the paper basket they show up at the table inside.

Clockwise in this photo from top left is a mug of chicken and andouille gumbo, a fried oyster mushroom po' boy, and crawfish Monica. (Note, these dishes, plus the oysters, three for both of us, and the two desserts was a perfectly filling dinner, even at smaller portions than the regular menu.) That gumbo was powered by a roux darker than an evil man's soul (I'm not going to name any names, plus then the metaphor gets too unappealing). You spelunk into the depths of its flavor. The chicken thigh meat is tender and pulled into tasty bits and then the andouille offers its spicy porkiness. It took me halfway through to find the little ball of rice hiding in the darkness. The po' boy's vegan, btw, right down to its lively aioli. The crispy, crunchy fry on the mushrooms subs perfectly for any meatiness even the most devoted carnivore might hope for. Even the roll was what you wanted--firm, tasty, willing to be a brilliant supporting, uh, roll (think the M. Emmet Walsh of breads). Then the Monica pasta was new to me, if hailed as a classic (Chef Pierre Hilzim named it after his wife). Evidently Monica is a bit creamy with a kick, and then there's plenty of crawfish tails for that great shrimp-and-lobster-had-a-delicious-baby taste. As a pasta dish, it's not too heavy, either. Yep, with cream. Promise.

Dessert closed with classics. The beignets, like the oysters, hit the table hot, not just warm. (So yes, things are cooked to order.) Plentifully powdered, they somehow didn't do the typical beignet blow up all its sugary dust trick, either. Piquant raspberry sauce added a lovely fruity note, and somehow we didn't do shots with what was left after the beignets were gone. King Cake of course is the essential culmination cake of carnival season. Cinnamon swirl spices the open-aired dough, and then there's plenty of colored sugar festively sprinkled atop. There's a chance you might find a plastic baby Jesu in your piece (your server will even warn you), but ours was untouched by infant holiness. Here's hoping we have luck and prosperity for the next year anyway. (Brief sigh for the mess our world is currently in.)

Overall, the Mardi Gras Feast at Little Dom's proved the homey and warm spot is firing on al cylinders. Staff was attentive, polite, funny, not too intrusive but there when you needed them. The booths in the barroom that replaced Sly's (and, yes, heavy sigh for Sly's too) hightops are inviting and classic, especially with their marble tabletops. It's a place where one instantly wants to hang. Just ask the Mardi Gras beads dangling from one wall's mounted marlin.

Why Not a Pinot Party?

Twenty-five years is as fine a reason for celebration as any, so that's certainly what happened at Thursday, February 27th's Opening Night Party for World of Pinot Noir. Of course anything feels luxe happening at the Ritz-Carlton Bacara, a hotel that's sort of its own grand Pacific-side world. (Just the collection of the cars you'll never come close to driving parked in the central plaza as you enter tells you that.) But WOPN did its best to spiff up, putting on its metaphorical white tie and tails for the evening. Even the step-and-repeat was attractively classy. (Notice I didn't ruin that effect my getting picture taken in front of it.)

After having your ticket scanned and and your armband affixed (note, they use the clip ones, not the sticky ones--my wrist hairs, unpulled, say thank you), you were ushered into what would turn out to be the sparkling station/room for the whole weekend, and pours of Seppi were handed you. There are worse ways to kick off an evening with wines made in honor of Joseph "Giuseppe" Phelps. Heading out that door, servers offered mini-Wellingtons you could dip into rosemary aioli. Somehow this golfball-sized gourmet delight worked--the flaky crust stayed on, you could eat it three bites tops. You'd been at the event four minutes, and you felt at the least fancy, if not half way to schmancy. 

I'm going to make this look like all I did was eat, but: 1) remember my rules about ballast at drinking events, and 2) food photographs better than wine bottles, if you ask me. So that's mezzi rigatoni pomodoro, the pasta exactly al dente, the sauce essential tomato yet kicked up with gunciale and a hit of Grana Padano. What's more, spiced sausage offered that great fat, with its own heat cutting the fat too, and then the lovely, light cloud-like tufts of whipped garlic ricotta. I fought the urge for seconds and the second didn't win.

This shrimp cocktail positively glowed. (Sorry.) But I was a real sucker for the lighting from under the ice trick. The shrimp were cooked precisely, but that trick of locking them both into each other and into the serving spoon made it hard to unhook them, in a weird way, and I even tried to eat them before I had had much to drink, I promise. 

While it is the World of Pinot, it's always heartening to see providers from our very region, and you can't get one much closer to Bacara than the Cultured Abalone, who not only brought their delicious mollusks but also had a rep on site to tell you about their terrific farm. The presentation of the seared abalone was a straightforward sear in garlic sea salt butter, then hit with herbs and citrus, but these wonders of the sea are so delicious, that's all they need. It was an honor to indulge in them, and to get to nod to what was once a food in great supply on our coast.

OK, yes there was wine. But I've got two more wine-soaked entries to write about WOPN 2025 and its grand tastings, so will go lighter on all that here, if you don't mind. You can see a hint of some of the range of stuff on offer in the photo. I drank from a different bottle of La Follette, a 2022 Heintz, a vineyard that runs deep in lore with Williams Selyem fans. It lived up to my expectations, racy and wild, with good fruit rounded with a bevy of attractive side notes--hillside sage, white pepper, baking spice. I also enjoyed a 2021 Ram's Gate Bush Crispo Vineyard that should be in the dictionary alongside Russian River Valley Pinot. A classic. And other wines we'll get to in future posts.

It was tricky to tell who the crowd was. Certainly a lot of winemakers, but one local who will go unnamed suggested, "Most people stay partying in their rooms and then show up here later and buzzed." I didn't stick around for that, saving myself for two days of grand tastings. Did I mention there would be grand tastings? There was also fine rock n roll from Dan Curcio of Moonshiner Collective, stuck trying to juice us up when there was plenty of juice to drink for that. Maybe you had to hangout until the very end to see if the dance floor got used. I know the step-and-repeat did.