Wine – On the road with Jim

Vineyards in the Afternoon Sun Temecula, California

Over the past few weeks, I’ve shown you pictures of Riverside County’s idyllic countryside and recounted the story of my last visit and how much things have changed. So, I hear you asking me, “You and Queen Anne drove four hours to Temecula for wine tasting. Get on with it.” OK. Put the gun down; I surrender. As you can see, this week’s photo—called Vineyards in the Afternoon Sun—is finally a vineyard shot, so let’s talk about the wine and why they can produce fine wines in the otherwise hot and dry Southern California Desert.

Temecula Wine Country in Southern California covers over 33,000 acres and boasts over 40 wineries producing world-renowned wines. The region’s ideal grape-growing conditions are due to its Mediterranean climate, granite-rich soil, and unique geography shaped by the San Jacinto Fault Zone and the Santa Ana Mountains. The area’s rich history dates back to the indigenous Pechanga Band of Luiseño Indians, the first to plant grapevines and make wine in the region.

The Santa Ana and San Jacinto Mountains—the snow-covered mountain in last week’s shot—offer stunning natural scenery and are popular destinations for outdoor recreation; they were formed due to tectonic activity associated with the San Andreas Fault system. Despite being part of the same geological formation, they have distinct differences in their ecology and climate. Today, both mountain ranges are home to a diverse array of plant and animal life, making them an essential part of Southern California’s ecology.

Temecula, Southern California’s wine-growing region, owes its distinct wine flavors to its terroir, a combination of soil, climate, and topography. The region’s decomposed granite and clay loam soil provides the ideal conditions for grape growing, while the warm weather and ample sunshine result in rich, full-bodied red wines and fruity white wines. The region’s topography creates a range of microclimates that influence grape flavor, with vines planted on steep slopes producing concentrated flavors and those grown in the valley producing fruit-forward wines. Sustainable farming practices and high elevation contribute to healthier grapes and complex flavors.

Temecula’s wine country has a rich history, with Spanish missionaries planting the first grapevines in the late 1700s. However, it was in the mid-1960s that the modern wine industry began to take shape. Today, Temecula is a bustling tourist destination, attracting visitors from all over the world who come to taste the region’s award-winning wines and soak up the stunning scenery. Visitors can also explore the region’s rich cultural heritage and enjoy countless opportunities to taste some of the region’s finest wines.

In January, Queen Anne and I had the pleasure of embarking on a three-day adventure in Temecula Wine Country, and it was an absolute blast! The rolling hills, endless vineyards, and charming tasting rooms with picturesque outdoor patios immediately struck us. From the moment we arrived, we were swept up in a boozy frenzy that we won’t forget. Despite increasing anties, we indulged in incredible wines, taking in stunning views of the valley and experiencing the utmost charm of each unique tasting room we visited. We highly recommend this unforgettable experience, but a word of caution: after a glass or five, be sure not to drive. I strongly encourage you to visit this stunning region and toast its past and future success. But remember to snap some photos for your social media feeds – after all if you don’t post about it, did it occur?

Flower Barrels - A vintner has repurposed old wine barrels as flower pots along the patio. — Flower Barrels – A vintner has repurposed old wine barrels as flower pots along the patio.

As usual, you can see a larger version of Vineyards in the Afternoon Sun on its web page by clicking here. Next week’s chat gets even more specific when we review the last tasting room on our tour. You won’t want to miss it.

Till next time

Winter Trees Temecula, California

Winter Trees - I picked this photo from our Temecula trip to clearly mark a change from the historic cars and buildings that we've been showing the past few months. — Winter Trees – I picked this photo from our Temecula trip to mark a change from the historic cars and buildings we’ve been showing the past few months.

If you’re a devout idiom believer, March’s weather should be enjoyable. It indeed “came in like a lion.” Here in the Weaver Mountain foothills, snow fell twice this week. With the surrounding mountains covered in white and our rooftops under a blanket of snow, it resembled Colorado around here. You should have seen Queen Anne covering up her plants with wet sheets. I should have taken pictures, but I didn’t want to get my toesies all wet.

As you can see from this week’s picture, we’re taking a break from old cars and buildings this month. Instead, I’ve given you quite the opposite—pure nature. Well, it’s Southern California farmland, and the trees were planted in a neat row. If you look closely, a half-dozen more have been chopped down. I’m not privy to why a farmer planted deciduous trees or the cause of their demise. I stopped the car for this photo because I liked how the dormant trees looked on the sine-wave grassy landscape. It reminds me of the Windows 97 background pictures. I call this photo Winter Trees.

We were driving around the rural Riverside County back roads because we decided to take a break from our hectic schedule of watching I Love Lucy reruns and go on a wine-tasting tour. It’s one of the few road trips we enjoy, and Her Majesty will put down her Kendal and get out of the car.

Decades ago, when I lived in Scottsdale, I had dinner with a restaurateur friend, where he shared a bottle of new wine labeled Calloway. That name should seem familiar because the family makes golf clubs. It was a charming Fumé Blanc. It didn’t come from Napa but from Temecula Valley—a small town north of San Diego. Over the past few years, we’ve tasted some lovely wines from that region and read a few articles praising the area. Since neither of us had visited Temecula, and it was only a four-hour dive, we turned the TV off, hopped in the car, and spent a few days exploring the town.

If you’ve ever driven from Phoenix to LA, you know Mount San Jacinto—the mountain towering over Palm Springs, whose feet begin below sea level, and its peak is 10,834 feet high. A tramway on its east face will take you to the top, and I guarantee you’ll need a jacket once you get up there, even if the temperature is over 100°F below. Temecula is on the other side of that mountain, and to get there, you take US60 to Riverside, then turn south on Interstate 215 and continue on Interstate 15. Even on Wednesday afternoon, you’ll run into traffic—it is California, after all.

I’ve been tasting wines from around the globe since I was wet behind the ears, and Queen Anne and I have continued that journey since she joined me thirty-five years ago. We have witnessed extreme changes in our tasting experiences as the years passed. Some of them have been good, and others have been a disaster.

Queen Anne in Temecula - After visiting a few tasting rooms, this is the look on Queen Anne's face. It means that she needs to be fed before she does a face-plant on the table. — Queen Anne in Temecula – This is the look on Queen Anne’s face after visiting a few tasting rooms. It means that she needs to be fed before she does a faceplant on the table.

When we started so long ago, a vintner’s profit center was selling cases of wine. The tasting bars were a marketing tool used to show off their product. If you liked the wine, you bought a bottle or a case if you were flush. Then the Napa area got uppity and started charging visitors for samples. At first, your charge was applied to a purchase, then you got a glass memento, and finally, you paid to play—period.

Other wine regions eventually followed suit. Today if you want to enjoy the experience of tasting limited-production wines, you can expect to pay from $20 to $30 per flight—per person. Of course, two people can share a taste, but the pours have become stingy. We experienced those prices in Wilcox, Arizona, of all places. Today, a vintner’s profit center has moved to the tasting bar—somebody has to pay for those elegant buildings. It’s discouraging for us poor little winos to have fun anymore.

Do you think that’ll stop us? No way. Life’s too short not to have fun, and during March, we’ll share some of the sights and tastes of Temecula. Maybe we’ll talk about what to look for in fine wines and call out swill for what it is. Meanwhile, clicking here lets you see a larger version of Winter Trees on its Webpage.

Till next time
jw

BTW:

I was pleased with all of last month’s participation. I hope you’ll join in on the conversations if this month’s topic interests you.

White House Picture of the Week

White House - An abandoned dwelling of some sort in the ghost town of Dos Cabezas. — White House – An abandoned dwelling of some sort in the ghost town of Dos Cabezas.

Ghost towns are a big business in Arizona. That’s good because we have our fair share, and a few of them attract many tourists. They’re our Disneyland. As soon as your relatives hit the tarmac and demand to see the state, the first suggestion out of your mouth is, “Let’s go to Jerome (Bisbee-Oatman-Tombstone-etc.).” You’d think that, by definition, ghost towns are abandoned places—they had their heyday long ago, but the residents left when things went south. But, that’s not necessarily true. The population count in some of our mining towns rivals the numbers they had in their prime. Our hometown of Congress is an example. People move here to get away from Phoenix’s smog and traffic—or the Minnesota snow—and they’re all on the road and in my way.

I’ve concluded that somebody loves it and wants to live there no matter how remote one of these places is. Take the town I introduced last week—Dos Cabezas. Among the derelict buildings, there are two surviving businesses. One is an art studio/gallery (Dos Cabezas Art Gallery), and the other is a bed and breakfast (Dos Cabezas Retreat Bed and Breakfast). At least those are the two places that advertise their presence. There are several cattle ranches in the area, and there is an emerging wine presence, but not within the town limits.

I don’t know anything about the gallery, but enjoying a glass of local wine while staring at the stars on the B&B patio would be a treat. Since it’s closer to the Chiricahua National Monument, it’s an alternative to the chain hotels or downtown dives in Willcox. The two guest rooms are in an adobe walled casita, and as the name implies, the hosts include breakfast. A drawback for Queen Anne and I would be dinners. The nearest restaurants are 15 miles away in Willcox or Douglas, over an hour’s drive south. If you’re a person that needs bright lights and noise to sleep, the retreat wouldn’t be your cup of tea—the nights in the middle of Sulphur Springs Valley are exceptionally dark and silent.

As you can tell from this week’s picture, the little ghost town is at the foot of the Dos Cabezas Mountains. It’s near the range’s southern reach, so you can only see the south head (Cabeza). There’s a road and trails that will get you to the top, where I imagine the view of the valley and Willcox Playa is spectacular. You need permission to cross a locked gate, and the top is steep, so why bother?

In this image that I call White House, I assume it was a dwelling. It’s a palace compared to some of the miner’s shacks I’ve seen. Unlike the other buildings in Dos Cabezas, this one is a fixer-upper. You have affordable housing with a bit of paint, a few shingles, and a yard clean-up. But there’s probably a community historical committee that needs appeasement, so you can’t paint it purple.

Unlike last week’s photo, the white stucco pops against the brown mountain and clear blue sky, and I like that. There’s plenty of side yard where I visualize Queen Anne hanging laundry on a solar drier. Then, this would be a picture that Norman Rockwell or Andrew Wyeth would envy. Where’s the Saturday Evening Post when you need them?

You can see a larger version of White House on its Web Page by clicking here. Next week, we continue down County Highway 186 in search of an image worthy of another car stop. Please join us.

Till Next Time
jw

Past and Future Picture of the Week

Past and Future - Along Willcox's historic Railroad Avenue, there are business that pay homage to the town's past and its future. — Past and Future – Along Willcox’s historic Railroad Avenue, some businesses pay homage to the town’s past and others to its future.

My dad bought our first television the week they hit the stores from stories that my mom told. I don’t remember because I was an infant at the time. The screen was small; you could cover it with your hand. She said that news of our new set spread fast, and the entire neighborhood crowded into our two-room apartment to watch shows on it. The crowd size amazes me because my great-grandmother’s apartment building didn’t have indoor plumbing, but it must have had electricity.

We didn’t need a TV Guide. We memorized the program schedule and could rattle off the shows for any given evening. The best night was Sunday. That was the night that Walt Disney’s Disneyland came on. They called it that between 1954 and 1958, it had various names after that. The gist of the show was always the same. Us kids loved that we could stay up an extra hour to see it—and maybe some of the Ed Sullivan Show if Topo Gigio was a guest.

The Disney show had four rotating themes. My siblings and I liked the cartoon week the best, but my dad enjoyed the westerns. They were either cowboy stories or a smooth-talking narrator explaining the west. He spoke differently from us. He didn’t have an accent as such—he had a drawl. He hung on to words so long they curled at the end—like the top of a Dairy Queen cone. His calm voice was soothing, and even at our young age, we knew that he wasn’t from Pittsburgh.

As I got older, I learned that the narrator’s name was Rex Allen. In addition to the Disney shows, he was an actor, songwriter, and singing cowboy. You may remember seeing his movies on Saturday morning cowboy shows if you’re as old as I am. (I don’t see a lot of hands out there in the peanut gallery, so you’ll have to take my word for it.)

After seeing this week’s picture, many of you have already guessed that he was born and raised in Willcox. I suspect that he’s their most famous native, and that’s why there is a museum for him along Railroad Avenue, across the street from a park with his statue. I can’t imagine anyone loitering in that park because the busy railroad tracks bisect it. It’s no place for a drunken hobo.

The tan building in the photo wasn’t built to house the Rex Allen Museum—it was initially the Schley Saloon. Sound familiar? It was the bar where Joseph Schwertner made his money—go back a read last week’s story. Two doors down, the building with the blue awnings is the Marty Robbins Gift Shop. You’re asking, “What’s he got to do with Willcox?” If you’re a boomer like me, you’ll remember the hit song Streets of Laredo that Robbins sang. Rex Allen wrote it. I think another Allen song that Arthur Godfrey recorded in 1948 is pretty catchy. It’s titled Slap Her Down Again Paw. It’s true; I couldn’t make this one up.

The grand white building between the museum and gift shop was a bank. It’s currently the Keeling Schaefer wine tasting room. One of at least three that Queen Anne and I saw on the avenue, and they may be the future of Willcox tourism. While the memory of Rex Allen and Marty Robbins appeals to my generation, there is no context for those that follow. So, the old cowboys’ draw may be on the wane.

However, wine is another story. A couple of decades ago, some adventurous vintners settled into the high grasslands of southeast Arizona. They saw that the conditions here would be an excellent place to plant vines—especially the well-drained soils of the foothills. The climate and geography are similar to parts of California’s central valley. New wineries are blooming from the little town of Elgin east to New Mexico.

Anne and I spent a couple of hours in Keeling Schaefer sampling and talking with the hostess. We found their offerings to be young and a little rough, but we did like a couple of whites and reds enough to purchase. There is an essence of the local soil in the wine—like the peat in a highland scotch. It’s a characteristic that you like or not. A word of advice if you go; sample at the tasting rooms and note your likes. Then stop at Safeway and buy the bottles at a more reasonable price.

You can see a larger version of Past and Future on its Web Page by clicking here. Next week we move on to a new project. Come back and see our next project.

Until next time — jw

Lunch on the Front Porch

It’s raining this morning, a steady gentle shower that’s driven the outside temperature down to 73°. That’s the lowest reading I’ve seen on our outside thermometer all month. The rain postponed our morning walk until it let up. We made it through most of our route before Queen Anne felt a couple of drops and began screeching, “I’m melting.” By the time we made it back to the house, the point on her black hat flopped over into her face. I’m afraid that she looked like a bit of a cartoon.

It’s been a decent monsoon season so far. We’re getting rain every other day. There’s enough to fill Lake What-A-Muck-A until the waters lap onto the pavers out back. The ground is damp, the saguaros have plumped again and some of the cacti have begun to bloom for the second time.

There’s enough moisture coming up from Mexico that the thunderheads form over the plateau behind the Weaver Range each afternoon. We watch them as they boil in slow motion until they anvil out and spread in their direction of travel. As the hot air rises down here on the desert basin, it acts like a vacuum, sucking the thunderstorms off of the mountain. Here at the house, with our views to the horizon, we watch as the lightning and rain cells pass to the north and south of us. But sometimes, we’re in the path. It’s like playing dodgeball while standing still.

Thunderhead Over the Weaver Range — Each afternoon, thunderheads form above the plateau behind the Weaver Range.

First, come the outflow winds which can gust over 60 mph. That’s why we keep the tree out front trimmed up, so the wind can blow through the top canopy instead of breaking off limbs or blowing the tree over. In the neighborhood, we’ve had nearly a half-dozen century agaves bloom, with a 20-30 foot phallic center shoot. The Christmas tree like stalk gives the wind enough leverage to rip the roots of the four-foot blue agaves right out of the ground.

Skull Valley Monsoon — Monsoon clouds move down from the Bradshaw Range in Skull Valley.

Following the wind is rain. Sometimes it’s only a drop or two that leave spots on your dust-covered car. Other times it’s a gully washer and the streets fill like rivers. Out on the desert floor, the washes run with fast-flowing muddy red water; those are the flash floods that are dangerous even if your miles downstream. Every once in a great while, Mexico sends up enough moisture that you get a long-lasting gentle rain, like today. It’s slow enough that the ground has time to absorb it.

Mesquite Pods — Ripe pods on a mesquite tree will be dispersed in the winds of a monsoon storm.

Conveniently, the rains usually arrive in time for sunset cocktails, and we sit out on one of the covered porches while enjoying a glass of wine. It’s a popular summer past time in Arizona. The temperature drops 10 to 20 degrees below the century mark. The lightning show is always spectacular and can last for hours. With a stiff breeze and the moisture; it’s pleasant outside, besides you have to hold down the furniture somehow.

Mesquite and Monsoon — A mesquite grove is about to get drenched in an afternoon thunderstorm.

It ends abruptly. Shortly after the rain stops, the sweltering black top evaporates the last of the street’s water like hot sauna rocks. The wind dies and the humidity closes in. When it becomes intolerable, you retreat back into the air conditioning, if the power’s still on. There’s time for a TV show before watching the weather. It’s important to find out how the rest of the valley fared before calling it a night.

Till then … jw

Cambria – California

We indulged today. We rationalized that since this was our last real vacation day before heading for home, we’d make the best of it. I don’t know how the day could have been any better.

Today started out by trying to make reservations for tomorrow night, Friday . . . Labor Day Weekend. We tried every combination that we could think of, but all the places on our route were already booked for the weekend, except the KOA, and they wanted a minimum of a three-day stay. So we planned an alternative route.

We had planned on swinging by Solvang, a Danish tourist town north of Santa Barbara. It was purely for medicinal purposes I assure you. The only thing we needed were pastries called Danish Waffles. They look like a flattened hot dog bun. They’re two sweet phyllo pastries glued together with a creamy filling that has a touch of raspberry jam for a tart flavor. They’re addictive, and there’s only a few places in California to buy them. Two of them are in Solvang.

We left at 11 for the eighty mile trip down for lunch and we got to the bakery at 12:15. Anne and I split a sandwich (the bread was sourdough made fresh in-house this morning, yum!) and for dessert, we split one of the waffles. There is no graceful way you can eat one of these things without it exploding all over the table, the car, the bed . . . where ever. The crumbs are everywhere and they’re too good to leave, so you wind up sucking them up from the table-cloth. Oh, I must warn you that these things are about 1400 calories apiece.

Queen Anne Eats a Danish Waffle — There is no graceful way to eat a Danish waffle. The sugar phyllo dough explodes when ever you take a bite.

We ordered another half-dozen to go (Anne’s already tossed back a couple, they’ll never make it home) along with a bucket of Danish cookies. We had time to make it back to Paso Robles, hit a couple of wineries and still make our five o’clock dinner reservation in Cambria. We pulled it off even after driving down the old creek road.

One of the wineries we always stop at is York Mountain. As readers of my newsletter already know, this place holds a lot of memories for me. It is the oldest vineyard in the area dating back to 1889. My original visit was with my first wife on our honeymoon in 1968. I was hooked then and have returned regularly.

York Mountain Rebuilt — The new owners of the York Mountain Estates have carefully crafted a new cellar using the original hand-made bricks and capturing the essence of the historical building.

The last time Anne and I were here, the original cellars were badly damaged in an earthquake and the state condemned the building. I was saddened that the owners had sold the property and that the historic building would be destroyed. When we stopped today, it surprised me to see a different but very familiar cellar being readied for the public. New owners have taken over the property and they didn’t want to lose the building either. They painstakingly disassembled the cellar, brick by brick, then numbered the bricks. They built a steel reinforced concrete structure and covered the new shell with the original bricks (in their original sequence). The new cellar has some modern touches to it, but it brought tears to my eyes to see how lovingly they captured the feel of the original. As for the century old redwood tree, planted by the York brothers . . . it’s alive and well, looking more stately than ever next to the new building. Bravo!

The Old Creek Road — On my first visit to Paso Robles and Cambria, the only road that crossed the mountains was Vineyard Road, and it was this old neglected tree-lined back-road. Along the drive, you cross the ridge and see the ocean twenty-two miles away.

Dinner was wonderful. Anne had her favorite rack of lamb and they even had my favorite; duck breast served in a cherry-port wine reduction. On top of that, we splurged on a bottle of Cabernet that we sampled yesterday. Somehow, I even managed to get through the dinner without spilling red wine on the white table-cloth.

We learned a new trick yesterday and after dinner we used it. After leaving the restaurant, we stopped at the town liquor store. There, we found most of the local wines we liked at a discounted price. We picked out a bunch of bottles that we liked at the tasting rooms and saved about 25%.

So we had a good day. We wined and dined, laughed and enjoyed each others company. We deserved it . . . for tomorrow will be in Bakersfield. It’s not the armpit of California, but you can certainly smell it from there.

San Simeon – California

This was an easy day for us because we acted like tourists. I guess by definition, we are, but because we hang out here so often, it seems like the place belongs to us. Even with all the traffic we saw today, by California standards, the place was deserted. If you want real California traffic, go to Disneyland.

The day started off with a long hot shower. If you don’t RV, you’re probably not aware that campsites provide showers for their guests. If you have one of those battleships on wheels, this isn’t a problem. Your shower is as big as the one at home. If you have a little trailer like ours, you need to use the one provided by the camp.

Ocean View Garage — I love old neon signs, so when I saw this, I ran across the street to shoot it. It turns out the garage restores vintage cars . . . and signs.

The parks we’ve stayed in lately have quarter showers. You put a quarter in and you get three to five minutes of spray. It takes a minute for the hot water to get there, then another minute to fiddle with the knob. Today, the showers were free, so I could stand under the nozzle until my skin turned pink and my fingers wrinkled. I’m sure that Queen Anne shaved her legs, because I could clearly hear her swearing back at the trailer.

Anne Checks out the New Movies — It’s been three months since Anne’s been able to see her movies, so checking out the new films at the local theater was a must.

Being tourists for us means walking around the towns and checking out the shops, galleries and restaurants. It’s been three months since Anne has had access to her movies, so checking out the new movie posters at the local theater was a must stop for her. In Morro Bay, there’s an outstanding store that sells sea shells (that’s even hard to type). Anne wanted to buy some to use as decorations in our house and she went nuts. It was like the comedy bit in the movie The Jerk. “All I need is this one. That’s all. And maybe this one, just these two. I probably need to have this also . . . ” She has three credit card transactions from that store.

Elephant Seals at War — This is what Elephant Seals do in between naps.

After that, we drove north past Hearst Castle to visit the Elephant Seals. It’s a stop we always make when we’re here. Normally they’re trying to sleep in the sand and the only movement you see is an occasional sand toss. I’ve photographed them several times, but it always looks like a bunch of dead bodies on the beach. Blah! Today, one of the big males must have stepped on the others flipper, and that started a big testosterone contest. They snorted and barked at each other for a couple of minutes, then flopped over and fell asleep again.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in Cambria, a small town south of San Simeon “where the pines meet the sea.” It was a tiny village when I first visited in 1968, and now it’s a large village. Fortunately, the cottages and summer homes are hidden among the trees. We walked the streets until the shops closed, then headed back to The Ritz where The Queen fixed me a gourmet meal of canned tamales. Someday, I’ll need to show her how to turn the stove on.

Harmony Creamery — Thew Creamery Coop in Harmony.

Tomorrow we will be heading over the hill for our last day of vineyard hopping (don’t worry Jane, there’s plenty left for you). We scoped out a couple of new labels to try, and there are some old favorites that keep us returning. After a day of that, we’re having dinner in a Cambria restaurant that we discovered today. After a day of wine tasting, maybe I’ll work up the nerve to drive Fritz down the hill on the old back road. Just for old time’s sake.