The Napa Valley is about 30 odd miles North of San Francisco and the banners proudly proclaim that 4% of Californian Wine is produced here. 4% doesn't sound like a lot but it's still enough wine to drown a small town. Wine buffs should look away now. How many Californian wine areas can you name apart from Napa? Thought not (unless you're a wine buff and cheating). So why exactly have you heard of the Napa Valley. Let me tell you. Are you sitting comfortably? All the following is based upon uninformed observation.
The first thing you notice is the Tourist offices who will ignore your request for a cheap motel with smoking rooms and wireless internet capability and direct you to a hotel just around the corner (owned by their mate Bill) that charges three times what you're prepared to pay and doesn't let you smoke but is right next door to a Coffee Shop that does have wifi. Well, if you wanted these things, why on earth did you specifically request them? Really. Places like Napa Valley Tourist Offices are precisely why you should not be allowed to own a gun. Ever.
The second thing you notice will be the wind turbines in, seemingly, every vineyard (I will not call them Wineries / Vineries). Then they'll turn them on and you will think that the helicopters in that scene from 'Apocalypse Now' are just about to fly in from over the hills, until you realise that, no this noise is a bit louder that that. More like a Motorhead concert. I should know I've been to both.
Then, I've no doubt you'll be invited to a wine tasting, almost certainly at a Vineyard (nor will I say Winery/Vinery. I just won't) owned by soneone's cousin. Here you'll be subjected to a series of florid adjectives masquerading as a sentence such as the following (which I've just made up), 'The subtle almond hue combines with the blackberry aroma producing an oaky, almost cherubic aftertaste culminating in a smooth, franky orgasmic, heavenly finish'. I also refuse to use the word 'Tannin', because I simply don't know what it means. Frankly I think it's made up.
You will then be presented with a variety of wines to taste, probably from Chile, which will be palatable.
Then a salesman, almost certainly an heavenly one, will hawk you some wines (that even the supermarkest daren't foist on you) at $50 a pop. You will take them home and diligently follow the advice that they should be laid down for at least a decade. You'll then try one. Then you'll present them to your friends and say, "we bought these on our holiday at a Napa Valley Vineyard".
Your friends will thank you for the way it gets those stubborn stains off their toilet bowl. If they've forgiven you.
In short, if you're middle aged with red cheeks and you fancy a holiday that involves your favourite grape oriented beverage, camp in your local bus shelter and get to know the bloke with the beard and the supermarket trolley. What he doesn't know about wine isn't worth knowing.
And why, oh why, do the insane idiots plant Rose bushes next to their vineyards ? Surely not for the headlines, perish the thought. I'm not a botanist, but if I were, I'd be compelled to do the decent thing.
Then you'll pass into the next valley, mysteriously, without going over any hills. It's the Alexander Valley. Another Californian valley with lots of vineyards. And do you know why you've never heard of it? Becase when youve drunk one of their wines, you haven't recoiled in horror and looked at the label exclaiming, "what the f**k is this?"
The first thing you notice is the Tourist offices who will ignore your request for a cheap motel with smoking rooms and wireless internet capability and direct you to a hotel just around the corner (owned by their mate Bill) that charges three times what you're prepared to pay and doesn't let you smoke but is right next door to a Coffee Shop that does have wifi. Well, if you wanted these things, why on earth did you specifically request them? Really. Places like Napa Valley Tourist Offices are precisely why you should not be allowed to own a gun. Ever.
The second thing you notice will be the wind turbines in, seemingly, every vineyard (I will not call them Wineries / Vineries). Then they'll turn them on and you will think that the helicopters in that scene from 'Apocalypse Now' are just about to fly in from over the hills, until you realise that, no this noise is a bit louder that that. More like a Motorhead concert. I should know I've been to both.
Then, I've no doubt you'll be invited to a wine tasting, almost certainly at a Vineyard (nor will I say Winery/Vinery. I just won't) owned by soneone's cousin. Here you'll be subjected to a series of florid adjectives masquerading as a sentence such as the following (which I've just made up), 'The subtle almond hue combines with the blackberry aroma producing an oaky, almost cherubic aftertaste culminating in a smooth, franky orgasmic, heavenly finish'. I also refuse to use the word 'Tannin', because I simply don't know what it means. Frankly I think it's made up.
You will then be presented with a variety of wines to taste, probably from Chile, which will be palatable.
Then a salesman, almost certainly an heavenly one, will hawk you some wines (that even the supermarkest daren't foist on you) at $50 a pop. You will take them home and diligently follow the advice that they should be laid down for at least a decade. You'll then try one. Then you'll present them to your friends and say, "we bought these on our holiday at a Napa Valley Vineyard".
Your friends will thank you for the way it gets those stubborn stains off their toilet bowl. If they've forgiven you.
In short, if you're middle aged with red cheeks and you fancy a holiday that involves your favourite grape oriented beverage, camp in your local bus shelter and get to know the bloke with the beard and the supermarket trolley. What he doesn't know about wine isn't worth knowing.
And why, oh why, do the insane idiots plant Rose bushes next to their vineyards ? Surely not for the headlines, perish the thought. I'm not a botanist, but if I were, I'd be compelled to do the decent thing.
Then you'll pass into the next valley, mysteriously, without going over any hills. It's the Alexander Valley. Another Californian valley with lots of vineyards. And do you know why you've never heard of it? Becase when youve drunk one of their wines, you haven't recoiled in horror and looked at the label exclaiming, "what the f**k is this?"
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