Barrel Tasting in Russian River Valley.

[Squane]

I met friend Sorensen, the evil bastard who first got me into red wine, at 8:30am in front of an IHOP in Redwood City, halfway between San Jose and San Francisco. Our mission for the day was to drive up to the Russian River Valley in Western Sonoma County to partake in this year's annual barrel tasting event. Many wineries participate and in addition to pouring tastes of their regular wares, allow visitors to sample wines prior to bottling for a nominal fee.

We hit Siduri Winery in Santa Rosa first, arriving just before 10am. Dave picked the place, not so much for the quality of their wines, but in order to get an early start. Most participating wineries didn't start pouring until 11 and had agreed to stop at 4, presumably to avoid problems in years when wineries stayed open until 5 or later, increasing the inebriation quotient of Southbound drivers on the 101. Siduri probably had a dozen or so Pinots going, a half dozen Syrahs and a few lesser varietals, not including their barrel samples. We had to try them all, naturally, and didn't get out of there until nearly noon.

Next up was Dutton Goldfield in Sebastopol, which we nearly got lost on the way to, unable to cope artfully with the navigation process. It wasn't even noon and things were already looking bad. DG's facility is actually the home of two wineries, each of whom had three barrel samples, and a half-dozen or so in the regular tasting room. Again, there was an effort to try 'em all, but fortunately there was an enormous platter of grilled meat and bread to moderate the effects of the alcohol. A voice inside my head kept saying "pace yourself, pace yourself," while another voice kept saying "shut the fuck up and have another taste, you pussy."

The hour was getting late and we had to pick up our pace, so we skipped the white wines in the regular tasting room. Next stop was Martinelli in Healdsburg. These wines were agressively alcoholoic even for a couple of drunks like us, having been made by Helen Turley, a winemaker who likes to let grapes hang as long as possible, such to drive sugar levels way into the stratosphere. When all that sugar converts to alcohol, a result of 16% by volume, even for white wines is not unheard of. I tried a Gewurtztraminer that drank like a Chivas & water. Whiskey drinkers would love this stuff.

Calling out to us from further on up off River Road, on the way to Guerneville was Gary Farrel's new facility. One SB, two Chards, a Pinot, a Zin and a Cab, but no barrel samples. Gary was holding out.

Sorensen was now on a quest. He'd had enough of atypical one-dimensional over-oaked California plonk. He new of a little dive of a winery called Porter Creek, that specialized in Burgundian-style Pinots, the winemaker having apprenticed at a famous domaine, the name of which escapes me due to having a head full of fermented grape juice when told. No matter. Five barrel samples, another six wines already bottled and we were on our way to the Ridge Lytton Springs facility.

Only two barrel samples and three regular release wines here, not to mention typical Ridge chincy-ass pours. Fuck it. Sorensen bought a half bottle of 1997 Monte Bello cab. We drank it. I countered with a 750 of 1985 Ridge Geyserville, a Zinfandel-based blend that was now tasting like a Rhone wine with the 20 years of bottle age it had on it. We dusted that too, hooking up some Japaneese tourists while we were at it. The winery kicked us out and we finished our drinks in the unseasonabe cold, a dusting of snow in the nearby Sonoma hills.

We needed food--and more drink. We headed into downtown Healdsburg, but were denied by the one-hour wait at the local brew pub. This is where things really began to go poorly: We ended up at a tapas place around the corner, that our friend Alex, who we had hooked up with earlier in the day, was familiar with. Sorensen was in rare form, ordering a Roederer sparkling rose right off the bat. At least 5 small plates made it onto the table, the only one of which I could identify was a raw oyster platter. Another bottle of Roederer brut rose. Then things began to get very sketchy. Sorensen began ordering cocktails--next thing I knew he had a beer going. I had no idea what Alex was drinking. Not to be outdone, I requested a double bourbon, but was having difficulty communicating with the waiter. Alex suggested Booker's which was an excellent call. Beautiful warm, toasty caramel aromas leapt from the glass, and it was oh so smooth, not that I could tell the difference at that point. I'm pretty sure the last drink I had at the tapas place was a Lagunitas IPA, although I can't be sure.

Sorensen and I stumbled away, managing to unintentionally loose Alex. I don't remember the transit, but we managed to end up in yet another bar. All I remember was Sorenson ordering a Gin Rickey and me ordering a Gin Fizz--and that is all I remember.

I awoke, shivering, god knows how many hours later, on a patch of lawn, adjacent to a sidewalk near Healdsburg's town square. My first instinct was to go back to sleep, but it was just too damned cold. I stumbled over to a nearby Safeway where I attempted to buy a bottle of Wild Turkey. Fortunately, it was past 2am and I was denied. After spending at least a half-hour or so wandering around the store, I managed to collect my wits and summon a cab via pay phone (my cell was in Sorensen's car). I was driven to the Sonoma airport, where I intercepted an airporter bus only a few minutes after being dropped off and rode it to SFO. There I got another cab, which took me to Redwood City and my awaiting car, some 20 hours after I first hooked up with Sorensen. I actually managed to make it home by 5am, which is a lot better than Sorensen did. He got bird-dogged by a cop for several hours and wasn't able to leave Healdsburg until after daylight. Unfortunately, the wine I bought that day was in Sorensen's car, so I had to go to the local alcohol store and stock up for the Oscar show that evening.

[Martini Time]

A fine tale filled with "local color". AND you posted in the proper section. Nice navigation on the public transpo back to Redwood City (declared "Climate Best by Government Test".)

As it goes, new guy buys. After that story I would normally ask for a Pinot Noir from the Carneros region...but since I'm on Speakeasy™ "Double Down" Imperial India Pale Ale, I'll take another 4-pack of those.

Cheers!

[Mongeaux]

You Californians sure know how to get fucked up! All we do in NH is hide under snowbanks sucking fermented mare's Milk. Good story, well written.

Welcome new guy and I will have a goats bladder of Molly "06". Introduce yourself in The Pub.

[happydrunk]

this story reminded me of the movie Sideways. I like wine-tasting stories. Thanks for posting it!