meet allie

One of the perks of working at a winery: The dogs. (Unfortunately, no winery cats here. Sadness.) We actually used to have dogs here all the time, until one of them pooped in the cellar and another one got in the way of the forklift.

But today we have a visitor. She spent the morning sitting on my lap while I typed away here at my computer. What a cutie.

overcast, under-rested

When the weather is like this, I want to stay in bed.

And apparently, some travel writers do, too: We hosted two today (a couple who writes stories together), and the man kept falling asleep right in the middle of their private tasting with our founding winemaker. I've never seen anything like it.

It got so bad that I actually asked the guy if he wanted me to bring him a cup of coffee.

(P.S. Are we that boring?)

falafel

Once when I was feeling bad, Shaya got me a card that said "Falafel?" on the outside and "I hope you feel better soon" on the inside. I had it up on my wall for months and only took it down when I moved.

I heart falafel and all of its friends. I heart the crispy exterior and soft middle. I heart the hummus and tahini and warm pita bread and the nice salad that goes with it. I heart combining all those wonderful ingredients to assemble my very own custom-made falafel sandwich.

And I heart finding a decent place for falafel here in Napa. (Seriously, finding decent food in Napa that isn't being served at an expensive, sit-down restaurant is a real feat. I am patting myself on the back now.) I went to Small World for the first time today at lunch, and it was yummy, yummy, yummy. I got a falafel platter for $8.99 -- about five or six little falafel patties with sides of hummus, baba ganoush (man, that was good baba ganoush), salad (which I drizzled with tahini), red onions, perfectly ripe tomatoes (I don't know where the hell these came from since it's not tomato season, but these were really, really good) and a basket of warm pita bread.

My belly is happy.

new york chardonnay

Last May, when I was in New York to celebrate a friend's good news, I found myself at Best Cellars, a wine shop that specializes in $15-or-less wines that are categorized by descriptors like "fresh," "juicy," "big" and "sweet."

I was looking for a Fingerlakes wine to take home with me -- hoping for a Riesling (they seem to be all the rage when it comes to NY wines). Unfortunately, the store didn't have any, so I ended up with a Fingerlakes Chardonnay, the 2003 Salmon Run. (Salmon Run one of the labels produced by Vinifera Wine Cellars, which has been around since 1962. That's a long time -- 10 years older than Clos Du Val!)

I didn't know what to expect from the Salmon Run Chard. The store had put it in the "soft" category, which scared me (I immediately conjured up a flabby, over-oaked, dripping-with-butter wine). So I put off opening the bottle.

Until two nights ago. And even then, I admit I didn't have high expectations, especially since the wine was an 03, its color had darkened to a golden shade and I was worried the wine had become oxidized and had totally lost all of its fruit.

Man, was I pleasantly surprised. The wine was no butterbomb at all. There were nice floral and peach notes on the nose, and in the mouth, there was good minerality, a hint of apricot and a creamy yet clean feel. And this Chard was absolutely fantastic with food. (He was cooking -- we had a tofu and veggie stir fry with asparagus, mushrooms and rainbow chard -- some peanut oil flavoring and some heat to it. And the wine went really, really well with the meal.)

Definitely a good NY souvenir.

no lemon pun needed

After several weeks of travel and weddings and basically just running around (and having no time to blog, unfortunately), this weekend, I finally had some quiet time at home.

I decided to spend it in the kitchen, making lemon sorbet with fresh fruit from our Meyer lemon tree. (Really, there is nothing better than thinking, Oh, I need a lemon! and then just walking outside to pick one right off the tree.)

I used a recipe from Emeril Lagasse. It looked simple enough: Boil 1 cup sugar and 1 cup water. Let cool. Mix in lemon juice and zest. Put everything in the ice cream maker. And voilà -- lemon sorbet like the one in the photo.

Or not.

Unfortunately, I didn't take into account the fact that Meyer lemons are already pretty sweet. Adding a cup of sugar to that mix was just way too much. The resulting sorbet was probably the most unbalanced, overpowering thing I have tasted in a long time. The lemon was out-of-control strong, and the sugar just exaggerated the flavors. I felt like my teeth were being coated. And when the brewer/gardener/recipe taster tried it, he launched into a coughing fit. And couldn't stop.

"It's just so lemony," he said.

The only thing that can even remotely salvage this sorbet disaster is a whole lot of sparkling wine: Add one small scoop of sorbet to a Champagne glass, cover liberally with a Brut sparkler and (hopefully) enjoy.