The Speedometer Goes Up to 220.

Before I get into this one goes up to eleven, I must thank the Chocolate Fairy. The Chocolate Fairy has been following me around all weekend, actually, but this morning he/she (whoever it is) left a giant brick of Hershey’s natural flavanol Antioxidant Milk Chocolate on my desk. The Chocolate Fairy was also present in Napa – at St. Supery, as we were about to leave, the chocolate of chocolates, most gluttonously wonderful chocolate in dark and nut…showed up mysteriously on platters in the tasting room. I swear, this chocolate is like sex - Belgique, it’s called. Orgasmic.

Now. Back to business.

Muppet Man picked me up in the Aston Martin DB9 Volante, a beautiful midnight blue with navy blue and burnt orange leather interior. The flooring is actually carpeted in a matching shade of blue. Where there was the frame of the car exposed (like holding the windshield and visor, or the frame of the top, there was a taupe suede, which made the whole car smell like brand new tango shoes. The speedometer goes up to 220, and you push a button on the dash to start the engine, as well as change gears, unless you are paddle shifting from the steering wheel.

It goes fast. It goes up to eleven.

People notice the car. They want to inspect every detail of the car and who’s in the car. That’s an Aston Martin they mouth – and you can see the words fall out of their mouths onto the street and they just can’t stop staring. We couldn’t stop giggling. That car is sex on wheels.

It was mighty foggy in the city, but we had hope that the fog would dissipate after we got through the Waldo Tunnel, and as soon as we hit Sam’s in Tiburon for breakfast, it did. After Sam’s, we watered-up and headed to Artesa, where we had perhaps the singular worst winery experience I’ve ever had. It basically boiled down to one Bitch Queen of a woman who was clearly mad at the world because she has really, really bad hair…

We went to the club member’s tasting area, which is sectioned off from the masses in a small private area off the main tasting room. We waited for about 10 minutes before a second staffer came to greet us (insert Queen Bitch here), and she gave me a hard time for not having my member’s card on me.

"You’re sure you are a member?" She said.
"Yes – you can look it up in the computer, actually." I said.
"Oh, I will, don’t worry." She said, snottily. Then she continued, "If you really are a club member, what was in your last shipment?"
"Christ, I don’t know. I don’t open them," I said, genuinely sheepish, because I actually had picked up my last shipment at the winery AND opened them for a party, but couldn’t for the life of me recall what those wines were…as Artesa is not that memorable unless you are drinking one of their weird blends like Elements, with a discernable name.

She begrudgingly poured us our tasting. At one point Muppet Man wanted to try two cabernets side by side to see what the difference was between the Alexander Valley grapes and the Rutherford – not uncommon at any winery. She got pissy about it and gave us a speech about conserving glasses, and at this point Muppet Man thought she might be being sarcastic so he played into it giving her the benefit of the doubt…because…GOSH…it’s not like a winery would have extra glasses that they might have to WASH or anything.

Finally, she tried to give me attitude again, and I just couldn’t hold it in anymore after she said, "That’s good. You are conserving glasses."

So I said, staring her right in the eyes with that Scorpio look I reserve only for people I truly loathe or about to tear apart, "Yes, I am. Not that it should really be a problem. I mean, we are paying customers…and wine club members at that. It’s all about customer service, isn’t it, dear?" I could feel her butt cheeks tighten without even seeing it (the bar was too high) and her lips pursed at the challenge. However…she was sweet as pie to us after that. Sweet as pie. The only other time I have encountered someone being rude behind the counter at a winery was at Acacia – MixerGal and I have never been back since. I have had some very good experiences at Artesa, of course, and the other lady there was more than gracious, so I did still pick up one bottle of the Elements before leaving (if nothing more than to prove I WAS in the computer…but I did so at another station, near the gift shop, so as not to give her the satisfaction of wincing in my general direction).

After Artesa, we hopped back into the car and decided to stop in at Trefethen, where we did a reserve tasting in the back room with exceptional service by a lovely blonde lady and her daughter. This made up for anything prior… and her generous information and vast knowledge of the family, the vineyard, and the wines themselves was truly appreciated. She poured us something she nicknamed "Velvet," and I swear, we’d died and gone to wine-o heaven. There was a nice local-to-Napa couple next to us that we bonded with (as only wine-os do—over drinking copious amounts of wine and recalling the incidents there-of, reminiscent style) and they offered to give us their wine club discount if we were interested in buying anything (the wines Muppet Man was interested in were far too rich for my blood, money-wise, but they waved our tasting fee and in addition to the club discount, the wines he bought were such a steal). The grounds are also a California National Landmark…and beautiful in that French country style, inside and out.

After Trefethen, we hit old faithful—St. Supery, where we tasted the staples, I picked up a bottle of Rose and my standard 2001 Merlot was not available (sold out), so I went for a 2002 that is just as good. We saw the Chocolate Fairy and indulged (afore-mentioned).

Then it was time for dinner, so we headed downtown to The Martini House, another favorite and staple, but one that Muppet Man had never been to before. The new icon (if you are viewing this on LJ…if you are viewing this on myspace, that’s from inside the car) is from dinner downstairs, since we didn’t have a reservation and it was pretty early on in the day. We did a food/wine paring that was out of this world, and generally had a blast.

Unfortunately at that point we realized two things… 1) We were in a $250,000 car that Muppet Man had an insurance deductible alone of $20,000 for any damage, and 2) We could not drive it after drinking at dinner. We were fine through out the day since we’d paced ourselves with the tastings, pouring out the bulk after a sip or two, and drank plenty of water in between, but we mucked it up at dinner having had the food/wine paring, not even thinking about it. So we elected to cab it to a hotel where we could find rooms to check into. Since we elected to stay the night, we also elected to hoof it over to the Bounty Hunter for a few cigars and more wine.

We ran into the gal I’d met with Judge Clooney and The Boys the weekend before, from Plumpjacks, and had a great time chatting with various people and watching a strange girl from Arizona parade around in her bikini because her (new) boyfriend was inside chatting up other women.

"Can you believe he’d give THIS up for those girls?" She said, doing what I can only refer to as ‘s infamous "Panty Dance."
"Can’t argue with that," Muppet Man said.
"Me either," I said, and just watched the train wreck happen. Later, she gave me her phone number and said, "Call me!" Muppet Man shook his head.

The next day we piled back into the car and headed for home, stopping in San Rafael for brunch at Lundy’s Irish Breakfast on 4th street. It didn’t set too well with us, though, and after he dropped me off at home I napped, lounged, and dealt with a tummy ache for the rest of the day/evening.

Couldn’t help but think that MixerGal and Donnamite would have really enjoyed that trip (minus the Artesa experience, which would have driven MixerGal up a wall), especially Trefethen. I need to take them up there just to visit that one place, soonish.

Now is the time in San Francisco, though, where the hustle and bustle of Pride Week begins. (c)Superman’s birthday is today (Not that it’s an afterthought, of course – but Happy Birthday will be sung later at the Ox), I have a presentation on Wednesday to organize for, and Thursday is not only Solstice, but International Surfing Day. I really need to get back out into the waves…

Labels: cars, friends, napa, wine

posted by Rain at 12:18 PM