Ribs for Your Pleasure

I'm not good at slow and quiet and wordless. That's one of the reasons I most appreciate Anderson Valley, which makes me ease up, silent, willing to let images be images. To slow and savor. It's little wonder the people seem so truly happy there, so helpful. Sure, part of that is they're in a paradise free from suburban blight--not only aren't there chain stores, and that even includes the mildly acceptable ones like Starbucks, but even the gas stations are odd brands--but mostly it's that they're not bombarded with the shit we all think is normal life anymore. Could I live there? Probably not, as that bombardment I'm too much a part of--witness this very blog you're reading. But it sure is a fine place to rest and recharge.

The Boonville Hotel, it turns out, has a lovely serve yourself breakfast, with scones almost as good as Bella Dolce's late lamented ones, and strong coffee, homemade granola, zesty yogurt. Fortified, we head out to Hendy Woods, a stirring stand of redwoods and one of the many state parks California that is on the verge of closing because government has skewed priorities. (That's the photo above.) A good walk gets us ready for some wine tasting, so we check out what's a new spot to me in the Valley, a place that looks a bit too upscale Sonoma-y called The Madrones, but is actually quite nice. We decide to taste at Drew Wines, which sounds familiar for a good reason--before moving to Anderson Valley in 2004 Jason Drew was in Santa Barbara County, making his own wines in the pre-Lompoc ghetto and for Babcock. On our visit his wife Molly was in the tasting room pouring their fine wines--very elegant and more European (that is, not alcohol monsters). If you like pinot noir, you owe yourself a visit here. We then went next door to Bink (the name adapted from "black ink," i.e., yummy red wine), where we had a fine time tasting through their solid to better wines--how could you not like a rosé named Lumineux? Together the two made fine new additions to the Anderson Valley tasting room scene.

That meant it was lunch time, and one of Anderson Valley's secret treats is the very straightforward Mexican food at Libby's in Philo (no website, no surprise). There's nothing fancy about it, it's just going to be some of the best Mexican food you'll have--everything clearly made from scratch with the best ingredients and cooked with the utmost care.

That's my massive lunch, the carnitas fajitas special, that I will not be able to do justice to--so so much flavor. That pork is at the perfect carnitas crunch without being dry in the slightest; I have no idea how they pull it off (beyond they must make each plate individually). And then you can get Anderson Valley Brewing beers, so it all just gets better, at a very fair price. There is one problem though--after that and a couple of wine tastings, it's easy to want to take a nap.

Not giving in, however, we pushed on to one more wine tasting, at one of my Anderson Valley faves, Toulouse. Their wines, alas, are not cheap, but they are all delicious, and that means Gewurtz, Pinot Gris, Rosé of Pinot Noir, and Pinot Noir. Each time I'm there the tasting space expands, and it's little surprise given the quality of wines and the friendliness and knowledge of the staff. Plus when we were there some fellow tasters had a bulldog with them, so we got some dog time in, too.

OK, there is probably nap time after all that, so back to the Boonville Hotel we go and upon entering Chryss almost instantly gives up her pescatarianism. For we are hit, in the most pleasant smack ever, with the enticing aroma of short ribs slowly slowly braising. It's almost as if we're swimming in the braise too, the smell is so deliciously strong it pervades the entire hotel, and we doze with dreams of beef easing off bones into luscious sauce.

Our dinner reservation is at a Valley-late 7:45, so we opt to hang out in the foyer downstairs, with the mild hubbub of others' good times about us at arm's length, and us in comfy chairs, enjoying one of the wines we've bought at a tasting while doing something it seems sometimes you have to go on vacation to do--reading. These few hours are some of the best of the vacation. It doesn't hurt I'm reading Gabrielle Hamilton's Blood, Bones & Butter,* to be sure I'm a foodie in every angle possible.

When it's time to eat, we kick off the meal with a 2009 Radio Coteau Las Colinas Sonoma Coast Syrah that makes everything berry-wonderful. The opening of mixed greens with Yerba Santa goat cheese and a cider vinaigrette is light and lifting. The greens come from the garden out back; we had chatted with their gardener that very morning. Now that's fresh and local.

Table 128, as they're billing the restaurant at the Boonville Hotel now, serves one pre-fixe every night, but those with food restrictions can ask for a variation ahead (they set a weekend's flight of menus on Thursday after a round of market visits). That means this is what awaited carnivorous me--beef braised short ribs, hand-cut pasta, gremolata, and horseradish cream. (Chryss has shrimp subbed up as her protein.)

This iPhone photo doesn't do anything justice, of course. The ribs are rich without being unctuous, moist but not mushy, deep but not overpowering. And then they get just the right bright balance from the tang of the horseradish (one of my favorite beef accompaniments going back to my childhood and my mom's Sunday roast beef suppers) and the gremolata proving parsley has a purpose. But the biggest surprise on the plate are the noodles, almost getting to be the bite of the plate compared the long-cooked short ribs, so firm and flavorful. Lots of people do versions of this dish, but Table 128 does This Dish.

Then the dessert is simple, a pleasing first visit from summer at May's end, local strawberries and cream and a shortbread cookie. Anything I could write can only mess up this perfect punctuation for such a meal.

*This is a lovely memoir, btw, as much about family as food (probably more so), and Hamilton's fierce honesty even while her prose performs brilliantly is a sight to behold. By the book's end you can feel almost dizzy how apt she is making clear fate always pulls the rug out from under our finest moments and that our worst moments always retain redemption. Life is never what it seems so we have to keep going just to know the ending.

Easy Valley

From Mendo, after another lovely MacCallum House breakfast, we make the trek inland, through the Navarro River Woods redwoods (how often do you get to drive through what seems so old?) into Anderson Valley, a land where beautiful rolling hills, vines, pines, and an abiding sense marijuana isn't such a bad thing--this webpage's first line is about medical marijuana--all come together to make for some easy-going living. We do stop for a quick peek at the Apple Farm, but May isn't exactly apple season, and more or less we just want to slow down before we make our first wine tasting stop, Navarro.

Does it really matter what else I write, when there's a view like that? Of course they offer their usual huge range from white to red of generally very good or better value play wine, all of which supports a program that's land and farmer friendly. What's not to like? If you've never been to Anderson Valley or Alsace, here's the place to learn to love Gewurztraminer, and you really owe it to yourself to get to like it. Sure, the bad ones taste like candy-coated wine, but Navarro's dry has just enough sugar, something left at the tippy-tip of your tongue, and a mix of oak, citrus, bread, and a bit of something exotic, as if Alsace was code for Asian, somehow.

And while Navarro does several fine pinot noirs, and their best, Deep End, you don't get to taste as it's so limited, we need to go to Anderson Valley's holy church of pinot--Goldeneye. Setting matters, let's face it, and Goldeneye has one of the best, as you enter through a brilliantly restored Craftsman cottage all Arts and Crafts furnitured out to then get to taste in a bit of outdoor paradise. The patio is perfect, edged with flowers and with a pizza stove at one end for parties, but it's the view that's entrancing--a slip of valley, running near to far with vines, heading into the hills a-burst with pines. It would be easy to stay here for an hour or a year.

The pinots are delicious and dear, reminding you there's a reason to make lots and lots of money. Tasting them with a dish of almonds and dried cherries only makes them more lush, or maybe I mean it makes me more of a lush, I'm not sure. But cherry and flower is all what Anderson Valley pinot is about, so this tasting is superb.

We do manage to rouse ourselves and head to our digs for the next two nights, the Boonville Hotel. It pulls off that simple but chic look only a place in the country could do--call it comfortable Shaker style. Plus it's right in the downville (it's absolutely not a downtown) of Boonville, so you can walk to what there is there, and that's convenient when you're in wine tasting country. For instance, you can lunch across the street at the Boonville General Store, which is much better at food than it is at naming itself, as it's really more a local-organic deli bakery. Alas, we're moving far enough away from the trip I'm not sure what I had (I think it was a quiche-y thing), while Chryss had the salad sampler, aka more food than one person should order. All very fresh. Perhaps naps happened. This was vacation, you know.

Then, a walk through Boonville to get to (eventually, it was a longer walk than I remembered), Anderson Valley Brewing Company. I like their beers but am still bitter they built a tasting room that looks as if it's major function is to be washed out with hoses--it's not a homey spot. But they do let dogs run about inside, and I'm a sucker for canine company, and they offer beers that don't make it out of the brewery compound, namely the premium and barrel-aged ales listed here.

Everything was quite yummy, with just enough sour but not so much you felt like you ate one of those persimmons that suck all the moisture out of your body if you eat them before they're fully ripe.

Then for dinner we stuck in town, for the very homey Lauren's. Imagine a diner that cares about what you eat, then make it even friendlier and you've got Lauren's, from the piano anyone may play to the crayons for your dinner table art to the pool table for after dining. Spring rolls with a spicy peanut sauce or a good place to start, crispily fried, stuffed with vegetable lusciousness, and the sauce has a true kick. Lauren's has been doing the local thing years before it became de rigueur, and that carries over to the almost all Anderson Valley wine list, and they barely mark up the cost, so sure, we enjoyed a Toulouse Pinot Noir.

For mains, Chryss was thrilled with her gussied up grilled cheese of Fontina, avocado, tomato, onion, and basil aoli with a salad that was a seasonal star all by itself and I liked my hearty if a teensy bland fettucine with asparagus, green garlic, and prosciutto in cream sauce with a side of steamed broccolini, so you can feel even more righteous about the cream sauce. Lauren's is the kind of place for direct comfort food made with good ingredients at a fair price, clearly a home for the locals as there's not quite enough tourist trade for them to make a go of it otherwise, but there's no sense of exclusion, either. Anderson Valley always aims to please.