Holly is in Napa Valley, California for the weekend. She's ready to know wine...
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Living the Life of Holly |
Column # 147 Ready
to Know Wine |
| Holly is in Napa Valley, California for the weekend. She's ready to know wine... |
|
www.livingthelifeofholly.com
“I think it’s a trick.” I said. “We shouldn't go in.” “Are you sure this is it?” Dee called through a crack in the car window. “Maybe somebody lives here and they happened to leave a key under the mat.” “Maybe this isn’t the guesthouse.” I called. We got no response so we followed our men. JR had already finished a walk through. “I want to live here. Wife, I’m never leaving.” he said to Dee. “We’re moving to Napa Valley, California.” “Fine with me.” She said. “But maybe we’d better be sure that this isn’t some private home. We don’t want to start our new life in prison for trespassing.” “Here’s a note in the kitchen.” Cool-guy called. It was from the winery owner. “Welcome to Twomey Cellars.” He read. “Make yourselves at home. Please let me know if you need anything. Hope this wine will help you settle in. I’ll see you tomorrow night as planned.” “HE GAVE US WINE.” I said, hugging the bottles. “Good.” Dee said, admiring our gifts. “I’m ready for wine.” “Let’s open the Twomey and the Silver Oaks” I said, searching for an opener. “I’m thirsty. And. I’m ready to know these wines.” “Slow down.” Cool-guy laughed. “I think the Twomey will be enough for our walk.” Cool-guy knew the owner who had gifted us with a place to stay for the weekend. And from the looks of things, we weren't going to suffer. The fridge was stocked with food. Um. Hundred dollar bottles of wine. And an historic guesthouse with high ceilings and hardwood floors that had been remodeled so it was more new than old. We sipped our wine while we wandered around the grounds. “This. Is. Really. Good. Wine.” Cool-guy said. “And to think." I sipped. "It came from these gorgeous vines.” “I had no idea grapes would dry on the vine into raisins.” Dee said, selectively picking a few to snack on. I was trying to decide if I should sip my wine slowly, or gulp it so I could have more. Ok. I’ll admit it. I settled for something between a sip and a gulp. “Um. Could I have a bit more?” I asked, again. “Who has the bottle?” “We should open a restaurant in the guest house.” JR said, filling my glass again. “It’d be the perfect place.” Cool-guy agreed as he took photo after photo of the scenic vineyard. "No." I turned to Dee. “Shoes. Don't you think?" “YES." She agreed right away. "Do you know how many shoe racks we could fit in that house?” “Shoes?” The men sputtered. “YES. Twice as many people would buy wine if they could pick up a pair of shoes at the same time.” I said between sip-gulps. We went into town for dinner and the guys were excited to find something on the menu that they had never, ever seen before. Do you know how rare that is? For chefs to come across something new? “Brown arugula?” “Never heard of it.” “Me neither.” “I gotta try it.” “Me too. It must be a new trend. Napa is pretty trendy when it comes to food.” I turned up my nose. “See. My dad has a big garden. When the arugula’s brown, it means it’s going bad. Kind of like green cheese. Would you order green cheese?” “Never.” Dee agreed. Our appetizers arrived. The guys picked at their salads. “It looks like arugula. Nothing different. Nothing special. I don’t get it.” “Me neither.” They called a waitress over. “Why is this called 'Brown arugula?' It looks regular.” “Oh.” She said. “That’s because it comes from Farmer Brown’s farm.” I got the giggles. So did Dee. The guys joined in. “You mean. We’re eating Farmer Brown’s arugula?” Cool-guy asked. “That’s why you call it Brown arugula?” “Yes. Brown has great produce.” “Does he have eggs? You know. Brown eggs?” I asked, laughing. “No.” the waitress said, patiently. “He only has produce.” “How about beef?” JR asked. “Is there Brown Beef? I bet nobody would eat that.” “Nope.” “What about Brown Milk? That would be cool.” The waitress left in a bit of a huff. “Wait. Does Farmer Brown have brown cheese?” “Brown Corn? Come on. Answer that. Corn is produce. Does Brown do corn?” Yeah. No. She wasn’t in a talking mood. Actually she wasn’t much in a serving mood either. We didn’t care. After dinner we took a slow drive through St. Helena. We passed by Brown’s Pharmacy. Brown’s Country Kitchen. Brown’s National Bank. Brown’s Bar. “Hey.” JR said. “That waitress lied. Brown doesn’t only do produce.” “Well.” Cool-guy said. “Maybe she didn’t mean that he only sells produce. Maybe she meant that he PRODUCES.” We passed Brown’s gas station. “I’m glad I didn’t eat the arugula.” Dee said. “He probably watered it with gasoline.” We laughed. “I’m going to change my name to ‘Red’ and open an arugula farm here.” I said. “I’ll be his competition. I’ll bet that people would LOVE to eat Red arugula.” We giggled our way back to our big weekend home away from home. Dee froze at the door. “Somebody’s been here.” “Maybe it was Farmer Brown. He heard we were making fun of him.” “No. She’s right.” I said. “The mud Cool-guy tracked into the house is gone.” “OhmyGod.” Cool-guy said. “Somebody took my mud?” “The wine glasses we left in the sink have been washed up.” Dee noticed. JR came out of his room. “Someone’s turned down our bed.” “Man.” Cool-guy said. “You know what I think?” I covered my eyes. Don't tell us.” “Well.” He said. “I’m thinking that with the missing mud, the cleaned glasses and the turned down beds…. I’m thinking that the three little bears that live in Napa are way cooler than the three little bears that live in the fairy tales.” Everyone laughed. “Know what I’m thinking?” I asked. “No telling.” Cool-guy said. “I’m thinking that SOMEONE must have hired a cleaning service for us.” “We are SO lucky.” Dee sighed. “I thought we’d have to spend Sunday morning scrubbing down the house.” “Me too.” “Yeah. We’re lucky.” JR said. "Very
lucky. Now... Speaking of wine... Where's that other bottle? I'm ready..." Oh. And. For more information about that yummy wine we were drinking, click HERE to check out the Twomey Cellars website.
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