Wines I'm Drinking: Sonoma Wine Tasting

I hadn't intended to go wine tasting yesterday, but I did, and it's something I should do more often, given the proximity of the Sonoma wineries. I had planned only to drive over to Rochioli, one of our best producers of Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, to pick up some wine waiting for me there, but I got to talking with the man behind the tasting room bar and the conversation turned to rosé. Regrettably, Rochioli has run out of the most recent batch of their Pinot Noir rosé, but the man recommended Lynmar Estate for another good rosé of Pinot Noir, so I decided to make a stop there on the way home. I got sidetracked by Moshin Vineyards, which was between the two. So, I visited three wineries in all.

Moshin is a name I've heard a lot, but I'd never tried their wines, so I decided to stop when I saw the sign. I tasted a range of wines ($5 for five wines, the $5 refunded if you make a purchase) that included an usually crisp, citrus-scented Sauvignon Blanc. Usually I prefer the grassy, catty style of Sauvignon Blanc, but I thought this one successful despite its lack of the hallmark Sauvignon Blanc scent. A refreshing summer wine. I tasted two good Pinot Noirs, one a rather barnyardy Burgundy-like wine, the other a much cleaner, plummy wine. I liked both well enough to think they'd be worth sitting down with and taking some time over. Friendly staff and atmosphere.

Lynmar Estate is simply stunning. I think this is probably the most attractive winery I've ever visited in California. How have I missed this one? The garden at the entry (photo above) is overflowing with sneezeweed and bee balm pushing up in clumps through ornamental grasses, reminiscent of America's prairie lands when the wildflowers are in bloom. The building is new (2006) and of some interest architecturally, with much use of exposed wooden beams--the kind of building that likes to show you how it's engineered--and attractive sitting spaces around the tasting bar. Most striking, however, is the view from the interior spaces over the gardens and the vineyards; the rows of vines rise up like theater seats in rows on gentle slopes behind the plantings closer to the building.

These are full of colorful flowers like sunflowers, cock's comb, and salvias, but there is a heavy emphasis on edible plants as well, notably several varieties of kale, one with striking frilly black leaves. The scent of herbs was in the air (which was very pleasant, although it interfered a bit with tasting the wines; all the wines seemed to smell of herbs, mostly something like dill). An outdoor dining space appears to be used for occasional events, but it begs to be put to use as the setting for a permanent restaurant. The place has an inviting European look that suggests good food, good wine, and good conversation outdoors on summer nights--late into the evening. But, alas, this is Sonoma County, where life shuts down at 8:30. A shame the space is wasted in this way, but Lynmar Estate is a beautiful property worth visiting even if you don't care much about wine or food--which is not to put down the wine. However, there is a downside to the extravagance (see below).

The Pinot Noir rosé I went to try is delicious--dry, crisp and with some delicacy, but with stuffing as well. Aside from the rosé, the tasting room offers two tasting options, an estate tasting of four wines for $10 or a reserve tasting of four for $20--which, frankly, seems a trifle steep to me, especially as the tasting fee is not refunded in either case unless you make a purchase of $100 or more (or over $150 in the case of the reserve tasting). I have to say the wines here seem overpriced--like most California wines. As is too often the case, the consumer is being asked to pay for the unnecessarily expensive facilities, and that is the downside of the meticulously cared-for setting; it's costly. The facilities are beautiful, but when it comes right down to it, entirely unnecessary for the production of fine wine.

Having said that, I enjoyed a crisp 2009 Chardonnay and a 2007 Russian River Valley Pinot Noir (cherries, almonds, something creamy, and with a suggestion of pencil shavings on the nose). The 2008 Quail Hill Vineyard Pinot Noir (big, alcoholic, concentrated and with a hint of oranges) seemed somewhat out of balance to me, but it's young. A 2007 Sonoma Coast Syrah seemed less successful (candy, blueberries, closed tannins), although still in need of time to open up. It could still evolve nicely but it's not very approachable at the moment. Peter, behind the tasting bar, was delightful. Turns out he's an active opera singer who lived for years singing in Germany and elsewhere in Europe. The conversation, the Pinot Noir rosé, and the gardens were the highlights of the visit.

Books I'm Reading: Gardens and Music

In the middle of Michael Pollan's Second Nature (1991, Grove Press). So far, interesting. On gardens and man's relationship to them in contrast with natural landscapes. More a collection of essays than an extended argument of any kind. A bit lacking in cultural breadth (exclusively the Western point of view here), but a good read nevertheless. More when I've finished it.

Just finished This Is Your Brain on Music, by Daniel J. Levitin (Plume, 2006). Although the author's conclusions are never startling, they are always interesting. He has a lot to say about why the music of our youth stays with us the way it does--a subject much on my mind in the past year. The power certain songs have to immediately bring back a moment in time, a specific place, or a specific person, can be astonishing.

To this day, hearing Petula Clark's Downtown transports me to a small apartment in Brooklyn, New York. I'm in the kitchen/utility area. The song is on the radio--a portable, blue, marine band model in a leather case that my father bought because we had a small sailboat at the time. There is a fold-up clothes drying rack in the room. The horizontal metal rods are sheathed in bright yellow plastic with longitudinal ridges. Atop the yellow rack sits a tiny calico kitten--we called her Marimekko because of her coloring--batting at my fingers. I would have been about four at the time, the cat about four weeks. The year, 1964.

Joni Mitchell's Rainy Night House, from the live Miles of Aisles album is as powerful, transporting me equally vividly to another place (Ohio), another time (1975 or so), another cast of characters. Certain lines resonate especially strongly. "You sat up all night and watched me/Just to see, who in the world I might be" is one. The high notes Mitchell hits after the line "I sing in the upstairs choir" literally give me goose bumps every time I hear them. I remember the day I first heard it, upstairs in my room in my mother's house in Dayton, a house that had been her mother's. The music had arrived in a letter from a friend, on a Memorex cassette tape. Coincidentally, it's raining in Santa Rosa tonight and this book mentions Joni Mitchell in a number of places.