why go to Provence?

Some of you cousins might feel a little intimidated by tasting rooms. Perhaps you don’t know what you like and don’t want to sound foolish. Don’t worry, just walk right into that old yellow filling station and talk to the beautiful blue eyed lady behind the bar at Milliaire. She will walk you gently through their wines and remember you when you come back. From their Simply Red to the old vine Zins and finishing with the Clockspring port, Milliaire makes wonderful wines. Now, Twisted Oak is different. In the largest and best looking property on the block, the old tasting room is a low ceilinged room, the girls behind the bar know their stuff and have a certain amount of attitude. They have too many piercings and the music is too loud but I don’t care. They make the biggest Spanish wines anywhere in the country. We had their Grenache last night with enchiladas verdes and ranch beans, viva Calaveras. The Twisted Ones call this wine Torcido which means “twisted.” They love names like this. Their greatest wine is called “the Spaniard”, as in “my name is Iñigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die.” This wine is huge, structured and balanced, it dyes my teeth purple and it’s made by authentic smart asses. Just go to Murphys, park your car, get a room and taste wine.

Having busted our budget to high heaven, we went back to Jamestown and retired to the back porch of the hotel. With its wooden swings and chairs, it is perfect for late afternoon relaxation. One thing about our hotel, there were folks who weren’t speaking English. Whether it was Dutch or Danish or even Afrikaans, I never got to ask them where they came from and why they came to the Gold Country. Dinner was at the Willows, another old place recommended by three separate locals in Murphys. High ceilings, wooden booths and good food made the wandering winos very happy.

Amador County is different from Calaveras. We climbed slowly out of Angels Camp, heading up and a little west through the glacial valleys and rolling hills of gold and black green. This is the scenery I’m talking about, horse and cattle country dotted with big old live oaks. Winter stayed late in these hills and the purple and yellow wild flowers were still shimmering on the roadsides. I was sorry to see the condition of Mokulumne Hill, a sweet little cow town that deserves more attention than it is getting. We pulled into the great metropolitan center of Plymouth, searched for “Main St.” and found the Plymouth Hotel and its bar, a beautiful big old high ceiling room that has been recently redone. The bar itself is straight out of the Old West and fully restored. The rest of the room is airy and family friendly with a pizza oven in one corner. Our aim was a midday respite of football and lunch. We found good food (especially the brisket), a nice wine list (most by the glass) and a big screen t.v. filled with World Cup.

Nosey Parker, that’s me and chatting people up while on vacation is my game. Like the lovely couple who teach kindergarten in Sacramento. He played football in his home of Brazil as a youth and she is being kicked up to 1st/2nd grade. I have to email them! After Brazil cleaned Cote D’Ivoire’s clock, we were headed for the Shenandoah Valley and the Zinfandels made by an old Croatian brigand at Dobra Zemlja (good land). To my mouth the wines of the Amador are smoother with more berry than those of Calaveras—different dirt makes different wine. In this place of hot weather grapes we searched in vain for a Cabernet Franc. Our newlyweds (see RPH #10) requested a Cab Franc for a present and we need to find a good one. The search goes on.

Slowly, the arc of vacation bends towards home. We left early Monday morning hoping to be home and in front of the t.v., for the Argentina vs. Mexico game at 11 am. After stopping at one of the numerous local veggie stalls (dirt to plate) on the 120, we got back to Adams Point, Oakland, with half an hour to spare.

The glories of the Loire Valley cannot be overstated, neither the beauty of Chenanceaux and the other chateaus. France is wonderful as are Spain and Italy and all the rest of this beautiful globe. But, cousins, see California. She is the glowing jewel above rubies, from the young power of the Sierras to the misty ocean forests of Big Sur. Our deserts and valleys and vineyards are equal to any in the world. We grow the food and make the wine. Get out there and eat.