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The Line Up

Soledad, California was founded as a Spanish mission in 1791. It’s the backdrop of John Steinbeck’s 1937 novel,  Of Mice and Men. It’s also the home of Soledad State Correctional Facility – a large prison filled with scary criminals.

Big House Wines – also in Soledad – is named for that jail.

Not that there is anything criminal about the wines except, perhaps, for how good they are at such a low price point. At a recent lunch with winemaker Georgetta Dane, she was coy about how she can keep the cost of her bottles beneath $10; but having a mixture of estate fruit and great relationships with other growers certainly helps.

When I was invited to meet Ms. Dane and sample her wines, I admit I was skeptical. Monterey has come a long way in terms of wine production, but it can still be very hit or miss. The Big House wines are downright cheap, and the entire line-up shares a gimmicky convict-inspired theme. But meeting Georgetta was the first step in changing my mind. The Suceava, Romania native is smart – she majored in food science in school, but clearly packs a satchel of street smarts.

Georgetta approaches winemaking with a sense of adventure not unlike the original Big House warden, Randall Grahm (he sold the winery in 2006). She utilizes a blending philosophy taken from perfumers (layering aromatics), and a willingness to blend more obscure varieties (11 grapes, including Malvasia Blanca, Gruner Veltliner, Muscat Canelli and Verdelho in the Big House White; and up to 20 varieties in the Big House Red, including Montepulciano, Nero d’Avola, Aglianico, Souzao, Charbono and Tannat). Even the packaging of the wines is creative in a way that totally works: Big House has been making their own boxed wine for two years, and at $20 for 3-liter “Octavin,” it really is the best deal in town.

But how do they taste? As I mentioned before, they’re good. As it turns out, the fruit is not solely from Monterey. Some of the grapes for the “Unchained”/”Naked” (unoaked Chardonnay), for example, come from Paso Robles. The grapes for the “Cardinal Zin” are from old vines, tended by a third generation Italian wine-making family. Personally, my favorites from the line-up are the Big House White, the Big House Red and the Cardinal Zin.

So, if you’re looking for a solid table wine you can drink on the regular without robbing a bank to support your habit, turn yourself over to the Big House.

Chai, everyone!

For years, kosher wine has been synonymous with syrupy sweet – almost grape jam-like – wine. Some people love it and some people force the stuff down their gullet for the sake of tradition, religion or making grandma’s dry potato kugel palatable.

But wine lovers no longer have to hope Elijah downs their glasses before they get to the gefilte fish. Vintners the world over are producing stand-alone kosher wines that any wine aficionado will really want to drink – any time of year.

I’ve highlighted a few of them below, but this post is – by no means – exhaustive. Perhaps all of these great kosher wines give us reason to be thankful that Passover lasts eight nights. Kosher wine tasting, anyone?

- Departing from our regular focus, this piece does not concentrate specifically on value wines, although some are included in this list –

* Bartenura: Italy ($10-$25). Admittedly, I am the last person who would ever expect to see an Italian kosher wine. But I’m certainly not complaining! From the land of the Blackshirts, we have Bartenura – makers of mostly whites, astis and spumantis. So bring some bubbly to Bubbe! She’ll positively plotz.

* Abarbanel: France ($10-$30). Produced by one the world’s oldest Jewish families, the Abarbanel clan can trace its lineage all the way back to ancient Israel. I guess you could call them the OGs of Oenology. They offer a wide variety of wines (including Cremant) at an assortment of price points. Doesn’t that get you ready to take a tikn?

Backsberg wines

* Backsberg: S. Africa ($10-$30). No badkhan! Although it might be surprising to some folks, South Africa has been making wine for centuries and has developed a reputation as one of the impresarios of the New World regions. Backsberg, specifically, has been named one of Wine & Spirits’ Top 100 Wineries of the Year, they have won awards for their mentsh-tastic sustainable business practices and strive to produce highly “drinkable” wines.

* Five Stones: Australia ($15-$25). From the Beckett’s Flat folks in the Margaret River region of Australia, we have Five Stones wines. Offering a wide selection – certified by Kosher Australia, Kashrut Authority of Western Australia and the Orthodox Union USA, these wines are kosher, Mevushal – and guaranteed geshmak!

Baron Herzog: California ($10-$50). Good ol’ Baron Herzog. When Kadem was the only alternative to Manischewitz – and just as sugary – Herzog came on the scene and gave us grown-ups something different to wash down dry brisket. This is a solid, reliable and tasty choice,with  a nicely varied selection of varietals and prices. If given as a gift, your hostess will think you’re haimesh.

Dalton: Israel ($12-$50). From the site: “The Dalton Winery is set in the beautiful green, mountainous country of the Upper Galilee, five kilometres from the Lebanese border, overlooking the Hermon Mountain.” These wines have been heavily influenced by Australian winemakers, although they are beginning to dabble in Old World styles for their premium selections. This is a relatively new winery, but they are already renowned for an excellent product.

Yarden wines

Yarden: Israel ($10-$75+). For the sustainability-conscious seder we have Yarden Wines, from Golan Heights. Both kosher and organic, these wines offer something to please the most rabid rebbe to your shtetle’s strictest shicker. They’ll please your eco-fanatical friends, too!

Golan Heights: Israel ($15-$70). Bordeaux-inspired and gold-medal winning, these are weighty wines for real wine drinkers. No shlock here. Looking for a truly yummy way to celebrate your yontef? Get a few bottles for the whole mishpocha. You’ll come across like a macher, but everyone will be so busy drinking, they really won’t care.

Hagafen Cellars: Napa Valley, CA ($15-$150). Napa Valley and Jew-friendly, too? Oy! I could kvell. With bottles up to $150 or so, this is serious stuff; Manischewitz is to Hagafen what spoons are to the iPod. This ain’t your daddy’s syrupy shmaltz. Established in 1979, this is a gold-medal winning, family-run winery – and highly recommended.

Covenant wines

Covenant: Napa Valley, CA ($25-$100+). According to Robert Parker of The Wine Advocate, Covenant makes the “finest kosher wines money can buy.” They employ both Old and New World techniques to create wines that consistently win awards and acclaim. The vintners, Jeff Morgan and Leslie Rudd, are bacchanalian balmalochas, for sure. And while their wines may cost a lot of gelt – gloib mir – they will be a delicious part of your celebration.

Zei gesund, dear drinkers! Hope your holidays – all of them, no matter what you’re celebrating – are joyous and delicious. L’Chaim!

* good wines at great value

Venture up this creek

And for the price – approximately $12/bottle – imbibers get a great table wine at a great value.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away (well…France), there lived a man named George DuBoeuf. Actually, there lives a man. At 77, he’s still very much alive – in a region of the land they call Beaujolais. In fact, in that faraway land, in that particular region, George DuBoeuf is king: he is le roi du Beaujolais (the king of Beaujolais).

DuBoeuf built his empire on a wine called Beaujolais Nouveau. If you’ve seen the balloons and fliers and felt the anticipation like the coming of a grand parade, than perhaps you already know that Beaujolais Nouveau is released – to varying levels of press and fanfare – every year on the third Thursday of November. The wine is made from the very first harvest of the region’s non-cru Gamay grapes, and has usually been in bottle for less than two months before landing in festival-colored bottles, all around the world.

Beaujolais has been drinking Nouveau for ages, as a way to celebrate the end of the harvest. Up until the 1930s, Beaujolais Nouveau was a local drink to toast a local job well done. It was brilliant marketers (King DuBoeuf being one of the most brilliant), who realized the potential to take this small-time juice into the Big Leagues. Soon there were international competitions/races for who would get the first bottle. Shipments came by plane, train and hot air balloon. The marketing created a frenzy.

And, like most frenzies, as soon as people calmed down a little, the bloom fell off the rose.

For all of the rejoicing, Beaujolais Nouveau often gets a pretty bad rap. Critics pan the strong banana notes in the wine (mostly due to a particular strand of yeast used for fermentation). While the wine has a little tannin, it’s often pretty thin and tropical and no match for the lively and beautiful Beaujolais that sees a little more aging.

But…

Despite the emphasis on new and young and immediate with Beaujolais Nouveau, the wine can actually last a year or two in bottle. As it gets older, the fruit falls out – which was exactly what I was hoping for. By the time I opened my bottle in February, there was very little evidence of banana. The fruit that remained was rich cranberry, with touches of cherry and strawberry.

Beaujolais Nouveau promises fun, and my “aged” Nouveau was exactly that. Light and easy to drink, and a bargain Beaujolais, to boot! A fantastic afternoon wine; something to get the party started.

I’ll probably pick up a bottle or two next year, and hang onto it awhile. Instead of racing to meet next November’s hot air balloons, I’ll wait until the crowd dies down. I plan to pair my Beaujolais Nouveau with kite-flying and summer picnics, instead.

AOC

I recently had an instant message conversation with a friend that went something like this:

Her: Wearing big, goofy grin cuz Match guy emailed me back

Me: U met him yet?

Her: Going out Sat!!

Me: U been emailing him a lot?

Her: Ya and our emails are amazing

Me: Huh. Maybe u should stop emailing him, cuz it just gets really awkward when u get comfortable emailing someone all the time and u build up all of these expectations and then u finally meet him in person and find out he’s a tool.

I know, it was an awful thing to say. She was so excited, and I blew in like a thunderstorm and rained all over her parade.

This is how I felt about A.O.C.

I had wanted to try chef Suzanne Goin and sommelier Caroline Styne’s second restaurant ever since it opened, back in 2002. The reviews always praise delicious – if expensive – food, and Goin and Styne are known as top-tier professionals who know what they’re doing. The food, as one might expect with a name like A.O.C. (the abbreviation for appellation d’origine contrôlée, meaning “controlled designation of origin” – the geographical system that determines how French wines are labeled), is French-influenced. The menu also has tastes of the Mediterranean (including Spain and Italy), and everything is made in a locally produced, seasonal California style.

With its beiges and creams and splashes of dark brown, the restaurant itself is warm…yet neutral. It’s like the in-laws that seem so happy to see you on Christmas Eve, and then immediately stop talking right after the appetizers: They’re great and you’re pretty sure they love you…but there’s part of you that’s just not quite sure. There is a great build-up, you see, but by the time you’re all packed up to go home, it’s hard not to feel disappointed…

My friend and I visited A.O.C during dineLA, so the restaurant does deserve a bit of a pass. Sort of. But it wasn’t a rushed waitstaff, or unanswered questions about the menu that was the problem. The issue was extremely high prices (even during restaurant week: $44 per person, plus tax and tip), for food that under-delivered. I had the roasted pear, endive hazelnut and St. Agur salad, which was very pleasant. The grilled chicken, escarole, anchovy and parmesan was very satisfying to eat – but would have been more gratifying had there been more of it. And the pumpkin pot de creme with pecans, brown sugar cream and butter cookies was ok, but after a few quarter spoonfuls, I pushed it aside in favor of spending my calories on the wine.

The wine.

I had missed a wine class earlier in the week, and was looking forward to going to A.O.C as an opportunity to catch up on some of the regions/varietals that had been poured; wines like Priorat and Rioja, Barolo and Gavi. But when I read to our server from the list of twenty options, she shook her head every single time. She kept apologizing, and clearly felt bad about the situation. When she escaped from the table, it was clear that she felt she hadn’t fled fast enough. I felt bad for asking in the first place.

Ok, ok. There’s the whole A.O.C. thing – maybe I should’ve just expected French wine. But the wine list isn’t exclusively French – not at all. And with charcuterie such as jamon serrano, lomo and coppa, soppressata and cacciatorini, I would expect at least a smattering of wines to pair with countries of origin.

I was disappointed.

This is not to say that the wine list wasn’t excellent – because there were great wines and an interesting diversity. There were pages of wines available by the glass, carafe and/or bottle, (which can be a nice way to get a bit more for the money). Maybe, if I hadn’t been so hungry and so excited to catch up with my class, my experience at A.O.C. would’ve been entirely different.

Maybe.

But I was looking for love, and left feeling let down. I liked A.O.C., and might even try it again. But if I do go again, I will go without any expectations, and I’ll probably keep things casual. You know, like lunch.

Let's get Vertical

From the time Vertical Wine Bistro opened in the fall of 2006, they have been recognized as a refreshing infusion into Pasadena’s somewhat staid restaurant culture. Founder Gale Anne Hurd stocked her bar with an extensive wine collection, and the food began winning awards and acclaim by January 2007.

But the only constant is change (and death and taxes), and Vertical soon found itself in a sort of musical chairs game of gastronomy, as one chef left the bistro and was replaced by another. Now, post-Sara Levine and Doug Weston, lauded chef Laurent Quenioux (of Bistro K and Bistro LQ fame), is manning the stoves and doing his part to push Pasadena’s culinary envelope just a little, while striving to turn Vertical into a destination worthy of that long and punishing drive to…you know…out there, up the 110 or whatever.

And just as the chefs were in and out, so it went, as well, for Vertical’s wine specialists. Although the bistro opened without a sommelier, Hurd brought in David Haskell – self-professed “wine pimp” – in the fall of 2009, to revamp and re-invigorate their wine list and seasonal California menu. But the “pimp” lacked stamina, and was out on the street in nine* months’ time.

Manuel Mesta took over the beverage menu in March of 2010, overseeing not only the near-biblical wine list, but also the beer and cocktail selections, as well as general operations at the bistro.

I was invited to try the wine bar’s latest incarnation. I felt, all-in-all, that things seem to be looking up at Vertical.

My companion for the evening, Aaron Tell of The Savory Hunter, and I were treated to an assortment of small and large dishes, incorporating some of the bistro’s historically beloved bites, as well as chef Quenioux’s new fare. But before we ordered, we were welcomed to our meal with sexy flutes of NV Gruet Brut Rose.

Everything goes better with bubbly.

Say cheese, photo courtesy The Savory Hunter

We started with an impeccable cheese plate which included Brillat Savarin, Sao Jorge and Valdeon (perfect temperature, perfect pungent creaminess). After the cheese plate, we were treated to Vertical’s famous comte grilled cheese with zucchini flowers and tortilla soup (was ok); and the wild baby argula salad (note that there were no actual wild babies mixed into the greens, but there was some blue cheese, Asian pear and a riesling vinaigrette). The corn fritters with smoked salmon and creme fraiche came next (a nice blend of textures, in a package that looked like some sort of nigiri sushi-cum-Viennese pastry and tasted pretty good); and then mussels with chorizo (lovely balance between the spiced earthiness of the chorizo, against the delicate sweet/umami mussels). There was creamy polenta with poblano chiles and queso fresco (which I loved, due to a homesickness for Southern-style cheese grits, but did not win Aaron over); and truffled macaroni and cheese (which was delicious, because truffled mac and cheese must be delicious according to natural law – but was not outstanding). And then came the hollow leg and the duck two ways: confit leg and seared breast with pomegranate glaze, yuzu curd, shishito puree and miso jus (excellent – I could’ve eaten the confit for days; deserted island food). We ended with profiteroles with vanilla and hazelnut gelato, and Vertical’s celebrated molten chocolate cake (there is absolutely nothing not to love about both of these desserts).

Vertical's duck two ways, photo courtesy The Savory Hunter

With nearly every course, Manuel dutifully set down another glass of wine. 2004 Sagrantino di Montefalco Ugolino, Terre de’Trinci, and Sagrantino di Montefalc, from Umbria. There was a 2008 Les Chailloux sancerre at the very end, which – in my overstuffedness – I forgot to write down the name of the producer, but was somehow able to make a valiant effort toward polishing off the glass (because I suffer for my art).

For me, there was nothing more enjoyable than simply taking in the space and the experience. Vertical is a lovely restaurant, all dark wood, warm lighting, and – on this night – a raging fire burning in the hearth on the far wall of the dining room. The ceiling light fixtures undulate like ripply pads of butter, the booths are chocolate brown, high-backed and luxuriously deep. Vertical feels decadent – and that’s before mentioning the gleaming, glass-enclosed wall of wines, separating the bar from the dining room.

Sagrantino di Montefalco Ugolino

There are over 400 wines in all – with many new European additions, courtesy of Mr. Mesta – and a monumental menu of 100 by the glass. Vertical offers seven flights, with three selections each: Sparkling ($35), Spain ($30), Italy ($22), USA ($40), Greece ($18), Beer ($12), and the “Wine Dude Flight” – one of the holdovers from the Haskell days – where a flight is custom crafted to the diner’s taste ($45). By the bottle, prices range from high $20′s to almost $1500 for a 2001 Petrus (if you got it like that).

Would I drive all the way from LA, just to dine again at Vertical? To be honest, probably not. But I would make the drive for the pairing of ambiance and comfort foods and that incredible wine list. And I’d order the duck all over again; I just hope it hasn’t been replaced by the time I go back.

*updated at Haskell’s request 1/11/11

Too Bodegaliscious for Me

Last week I wrote a review of Corkbar, one of LA’s many new venues for vinophiles.

This week, I’m writing about Bodega. Bodega is a night club wine bar with locations in Santa Monica, Hollywood and Pasadena. Bodega’s website describes their raison d’etre thusly:

We like to drink wine. Not so much sniff it, stare at it, swirl it or try to describe it with funny words… but mostly just drink it. And most of our wines are the same price so it’s easy to try different things. Come check out the original in Pasadena or the new one in Santa Monica.

Cool. I can dig it. They’ve built an oasis for thirsty souls to seek refuge and quench themselves. No pretense or pretension. They’re all about sitting down, strapping in and getting sauced. I can dig that, too.

But here’s the part where I get hung up a little: They call themselves a wine bar. And when I go to a wine bar, I’m really doing it for the wine. If I want to drink just any old fermented thing, I’ll reach for a can of Four Loco. Or, actually, I’ll probably go to a regular bar – a bar that isn’t focused on wine. A bar where no one is expected to sniff, stare or swirl. Well. Not their wine, anyway.

Bodega feels more like a bar-bar than a wine bar. To wit, they offer only 12 reds and 12 whites, 3 dessert wines, 3 bottles of bubbles and beer, sake and soju. In every category, everything is – more or less – the same level of quality, and nothing you wouldn’t be able to find at a shop near you. Incidentally, this also keeps prices low-low-low.

Bodega offers a small plate menu of unfussy foods like grilled cheese, hummus and pita, a few salads and an array of pizzas. They offer long tables with communal seating, and just a few smaller tables arranged in-between groupings of low, cushion-y stools. They offer their take on the vibe like this: “…it’s a great blend of a casual setting with lots of things to munch on and share. We tried to make our menu kinda like that.”

Here’s the other thing about Bodega: It’s dark and it’s loud. Like, live-DJs-on-weekends and this-one-goes-to-11 loud. Every time I’ve been, my fellow geezers and I get run off after 9pm because the full-tilt cranial assault makes our dentures rattle.

Dude. It’s all coming clear – the straight-forward wine menu, the casual descriptors, the dark, the loud, the easy-breezy munchy food, the great big party communal vibe: Bodega’s built for young people. It’s a night club without the dancing and full bar. It’s a place to see and be seen; it’s a place to pick up digits – but not the details about what you’re drinking. If you’re feeling young and hot and flirty, go to Bodega. Go to Bodega for great drink specials and pizza. Go to Bodega because there are three, easy-to-access locations. Just don’t go to Bodega for wine.

Almost overnight – kind of like those neighborhoods one passes while driving on the I-15 to Vegas – wine bars have popped up all over LA. Although this is merry news for those of the drinking persuasion, it’s understandable that many folks would prefer not to traipse around, all over Los Angeles, as they try to choose a favorite.

To this end, I have made it my solemn duty to try every single one and report back to you, dear reader, on the atmosphere, personality and quality of the menu at each of these watering holes for winos.

The sacrifices I make for my people…

First up – Corkbar!

My first visit to this California-centric “gastrobar” was through an invitation from Corkbar’s PR firm. Caleb Wines and John McGonigle, two of the four partners in this endeavor (the other two are Garry Muir and Chris Schiffman), hosted a small group of bloggers to sample their food and wine, and to talk about their brain child: They had been traveling California’s Central Coast, and really wanted to recreate a space that had a similar kind of laid back, friendly vibe, in LA. They looked for an “emerging neighborhood” and a list of wines/beer that anyone – inexperienced to expert – would find approachable, and – viola! - Corkbar was born.

Corkbar is situated in the southeast corner of the Evo building in downtown LA (403 W. 12th St.). Designed by Ana Henton and Gregory Williams of Los Angeles-based MASS Architecture and Design, the high ceilings, sparse wood/cork interior and mood lighting give Corkbar a decidedly urban/metro feel. This is balanced by a local-loving outdoor firepit and two patios that add familiar, cozy warmth to the entire place. Corkbar feels like the perfect spot for a first date or a night out for people who want to eat and drink well without spending unholy wads of cash; a dish of scallops, spinach, bacon and brown butter ($24) is the most expensive item on the fall menu (Corkbar offers a seasonal Farmers Market menu, as well as a list of permanent fare). But most dishes are under $15 (ranging from soups, salads and sandwiches to mussels, macaroni and cheese, and the undeniably delicious Root Beer Braised Short Ribs with Cheesy Polenta ($16)). Their extensive by-the-glass drink list includes several wines and beers priced under $10 each. For an even better deal, their Test Kitchen Tuesdays (TKT) serves up trial dishes by Chef Albert Aviles, priced at $2 each.

Corkbar currently offers about 50 wines by the bottle and 75 by the glass, mostly from California – although they do stock several champagnes and will sometimes offer international tasting flights. They describe their beer menu as “a flavorful list of drafts and bottles by breweries from San Diego to Sonoma,” with an emphasis on local and craft brews.

Is Corkbar the “Cheers” of downtown LA? Well…in a word…no – but only because it feels so swanky. With great descriptions on the menu and prices that run the gamut (I had a $25 glass of 2007 Shaffer Merlot; bottle prices range from about $34 to $650 (for a 2006 Bryant Family Vineyards Cabernet Sauvignon)), Corkbar is “everyman’s wine bar” – if everyman is looking for an upscale/downtown kind of vibe, at very affordable prices.

If you scan any bar or restaurant wine list, it’s immediately apparent that there is a huge discrepancy in price between wine by the glass and the same thing by the bottle. Because of this chasm, many people – especially value-minded individuals – tend to go the less expensive route: They buy by the glass.

But here’s the thing, wine by the glass isn’t a value at all. In fact, it’s an enormous waste of money.

“But it’s so much cheaper!” you might say. And, technically, you’d be correct. Is $10 cheaper than $30? Yes. But if that’s your argument, you’re missing the point – and several glasses of extra wine.

Typically – although not always – the cost by the glass is equal to the wholesale price of the bottle. Although that mark-up might seem a little extreme, it’s important to remember that once a bottle of wine is opened, there are only a few days before it becomes a lost asset. As such, a restaurant has to ensure that they aren’t losing money on that BV Coastal Chardonnay they opened just for you. As a general rule, the wines that lose their value fastest will have the highest mark-up (sparkling, etc.).

If glass prices are equivalent to the wholesale price of a full bottle, how much should someone expect to pay for the bottle at a restaurant? Although it varies significantly, the average markup is around 250 – 300%. The overage helps cover the weighty labor, food and overhead costs shouldered by the restaurant.

Doing the math – If a restaurant’s wholesale cost is $10 for a bottle of wine, you can expect to pay around $30 for it. In a store, you’re probably looking at around $15 or so for the same bottle – and $10 – $15 is probably what you’ll pay by the glass. There are approximately 5 glasses in a bottle of wine, so – using this example – you can spend $30 for five glasses of wine by the bottle, or $50 for the same amount of wine, if purchased by the glass.

Is wine by the glass less expensive? Yes. Is it a value? No. The best deal will almost always be by the bottle. If you’re worried about wasting leftover wine, ask the restaurant if you can bring the rest home; it varies by restaurant.

“But I only want one glass!” you say – and this is understandable. By the glass is still the best way to try something new. If you’re out for the night, you’ve already succumbed to the markup, anyway – so just do it. Either that, or buy a beer.

The Rhône wine region is an AOC (Appellation d’origine controlee) in Southern France, probably best known in the US as the homeland of Châteauneuf-du-Pape—a popular wine that can contain as many as 18 different grape varietals (even white).

Not satisfied with letting the French have all the fun, in the 1980’s a group of winemakers from California’s Central Coast – John Alban (Alban Vineyards), Bob Lindquist (Qupe) and Randall Grahm (Bonny Doon Vineyards) – began planting Rhône varietals like Syrah, Grenache and Viognier. The vines took hold—and so did marketing efforts—and the Rhone Rangers was born, keeping Americans safe from the threat of drinking something boring.

Today, the Rhone Rangers include almost 200 member wineries, producing wine from any of the 22 different grapes sanctioned by the AOC for Rhône juice. Some wines are single variety, some are blends—and many can be tasted at Rhone Rangers tasting events, like the one which took place on Sunday, August 8, at Pier 59 Studios West, in Santa Monica.

Those who saddled up and trekked over had the chance to taste Marsanne-Roussanne, Grenache Blanc, Carignan, Cinsault, Mourvedre and others, from the likes of Cline Cellars, Tablas Creek Vineyard (which is an offshoot of the actual Rhône winery Chateau Beaucastel), Koehler Winery, Edward Sellers Vineyards & Wines, Qupe, Justin Winery and more. Schaffer’s Genuine Catering provided food for the day. When the event ended at 5, many of the wineries headed to Pourtal wine bar, where they poured their wines for kemo sabes old and new before riding off into the sunset.

If you missed the tasting but want to scout out these delicious juices [Ed note: Rhône varietals tend to be Jess and my favorites], many of them are surprisingly affordable and – like Grenache, in particular – are starting to gain in popularity. I’ve even seen some in the grocery store! Then, of course, there is always next year’s Rhone Rangers tasting…

Rhone Rangers Hi-Ho