Everywhere a sign.

I guess that I should write something.

Hmmm. What the hell is interesting out there that I haven't already killed a thousand times?
Boehner, Bachmann, Governor Walker, too easy targets and besides, I'm off of politics for a while.

I did think it was cool that the tea party formed an alliance with the democrats and defunded one of Speaker Boehner's pet projects, the F-35 jet engine that nobody from the Pentagon wanted. So what if we lose some Ohio jobs, right John? What was it that you said the other day, so be it? If only they could have shot down Shelby too. Maybe this thing will get interesting...

***

Minnesota Dem Betty McCollum is getting death threats for going after a very sacred cow - stripping Nascar teams of Pentagon sponsorship. She had to alert Capitol Police after receiving a fax with the message "Yo, Slut Betty," "Shut Your Phucking Pie Hole!" The fax then reads "without exception, Marxists are enemies of the Constitution" and "Death To All Marxists, Foreign And Domestic!" 

McCollum's proposal seeks to ban the military from spending taxpayer money on racing sponsorships. Currently, the Army sponsors a car in the NASCAR's Sprint Cup series to the tune of about $7 million per year. Total military expenditures on racing run past $30 million. Similar to the post office's huge and wasteful expenditures on Lance Armstrong's racing team.

Her Chief of Staff Bill Harper says that they are fielding lots of calls. "Lots of Mississippi people, North Carolina people. We had a Florida person."

Guess she will have to learn not to mess with Bubba.

***

I am starting to read up on the philosophy of structuralism. I was reading a book on semiotics and sort of tapped into structuralism.

Semiotics, the study of signs and symbols comes from the greek σημειωτικός, (sēmeiōtikos), "observant of signs." John Locke wrote about Semiotics in his An Essay Concerning Human Understanding in 1690. But the real father of the philosophic pursuit was Charles Sanders Pierce who in the 19th Century defined the "quasi-necessary, or formal doctrine of signs", which abstracts "what must be the characters of all signs used by...an intelligence capable of learning by experience", and which is philosophical logic pursued in terms of signs and sign processes.

Pierce referred to three kinds of signs - iconic signs, or those that clearly represent the objects they represent (like the above road sign), indexical signs, which represent concepts that we associate with a particular sign (like a falling rock sign) and symbolic signs whose meanings are determined by convention e.g. a skull or hazardous sign.

Charles Morris followed Pierce and extended the discipline beyond human communication to animal learning and the use of signals.

The founding father of semiotics was the swiss linguist Ferdinand De Saussere (1857-1913) who identified two parts of a sign - the signifier, or actual sign itself and the signified, the conceptual meaning ascribed to it.

Semiotics breaks signs into three major categories, semantics, syntactics and pragmatics. Semantics is the way that signs relate to that which they refer. Syntactics deals with the way that words relate to each other and the formal components of sign structure. Pragmatics relates to signs' effects on people.

If you look at the photograph that I post above, you will see a picture of a sign that I took off Interstate 40. The very elementary fonts are designed to be understood on the most primitive level when whizzing by at 80 mph. Information transfer in its most basic form. Eat and Gas. Highly effective in its most primal and simplistic modality.

Structuralism is a concept championed by the French anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss. It analyzes the human condition semiotically, as a system of signs. Strauss believed that this underlying language affects man in a very direct way, no matter what culture we happen to spring from.

First, that a structure determines the position of each element of a whole. Second, that every system has a structure. Third, structural laws deal with co-existence rather than change. Fourth, structures are the "real things" that lie beneath the surface or the appearance of meaning. One of the tenets of structuralism is that it be understood that these structures are not concrete manifestations of reality, but cognitive models of reality.

Not to belabor this exercise in pointy headed intellectualism but one of the main precepts of structuralist and post structuralist theory is the concept of binary opposition. The pairs in the structural system are either similar or opposite.  Man/woman, good/evil, civilized/savage, white/black, all are broken down to the elementary binary dichotomy.  But the kicker is that one of the polarized partners is usually dominant,  hence we now live in a culture that tends to favor conservative, straight, white men.

I find structuralism pretty interesting, as well as its connections with structural linguistics and phonemics. As different as cultures seem, we are all remarkably similar when viewed through the structuralist prism. Silly hairless apes.

Insane

Merle Travis performs "Lost John"

Tuesday Tsoris

Nice to see Obama decide to cut financial aid to the poor for heating oil. His conversion is almost complete. What do we get next? Puppy Stomping?

***

In Iran today, 1500 opposition leaders have been arrested. Ruling party members are calling for public execution of the opposition. I am waiting for Noam Chomsky to defend his Iranian pals again.

The Chomster Mumzer

***

Julian Assange is all atwitter over the release of trial documents regarding his sexual molestation case in Sweden. He is demanding that his records be sealed. Come again, Julian, you believe in confidentiality all of a sudden?

***

The Chamber of Commerce has hired some real scumbags from the defense and intelligence business to slur and defame their political enemies. Of course all the senior staff is pleading total ignorance. Compartmentalization. It's a beautiful thing.


***

Curveball admits that all that WMD stuff was bullshit.

***

Anyone with half a brain knew that all the election time GOP "big tent" language was bullshit as well. It didn't take long for them to throw the gay republican GoProud group right off of the bus. Although the Log Cabinites were pretty pathetic in believing them in the first place.

***

This is me eating the last shortbread cookie from the French Laundry this afternoon.

Taj Mahal - Queen Bee

Week in Review

The northland trip was successful. I got back last night. It was beautiful all week in the Bay Area. I was rooming with my normal buddy Cam, who is a bit of a lush, but managed to only start off only one day with shots, so we did not descend into our normal alcoholic stupor.

I don't have a lot to say, since I am fighting a bit of writer's block. Hardly took a picture either. However a few rich vignettes from the week do seem to rise to the surface of my memory.  We stayed at the Crown Plaza in Foster City (a city that rose like the phoenix from the garbage dumps a few decades ago.) There was a loud wedding, party or function every night. On Saturday, returning from dinner, we returned to the hotel to find a pretty but bombed out young girl sitting on the sidewalk path to the hotel, with a pool of puke on one side and her mascara running down her face. She had evidently peed her pants as well. Her friends were comforting her. Cam, in a most compassionate voice, tisked," We've all been there honey." Wish that I had my camera as she looked like one of the painted marionette dolls from Night Gallery.

***

The show is probably the largest antique show on the west coast, but has shrunken considerably in the last five or six years. Where it once was two large halls with a slough of side rooms, now it barely fills one hall. Dealers have retired, died or given up the business. There are a variety of factors, including the internet, recession and a lack of interest in things antique on the part of the younger generation.

Where I was once one of the green rookies in the business, I have suddenly turned into one of the old grey beards. When and how in the hell did this happen?

***

I heard from a lot of Blast readers at the show. Got an earful from a couple that I had stopped sending it to. I sort of handpick who is going to get the Blast, figuring that people can bookmark the site if they want to, not wanting to constantly inundate everybody with my stream. But a few take umbrage when they are missed. Do I create a master list and hit everybody, risking alienating people with my verbosity, or continue to just mail it to you ever so often?

It is also interesting to me that certain people tell me that they like the personal stuff the best, while others tell me that they just want the political or hard edged stuff and dread the personal. Some come only for the music. Some come for the food. Some just want to savor the delicious and witty repartee. I know that I obviously can't please everybody and will just keep trying to tread the delicate line and give you both barrels to the best of my ability.

***

I went out to a bar in Burlingame on night with a few of the guys. A rather large and very forward woman quite openly signaled her availability to me. I graciously declined but sincerely appreciated the offer. Always nice to be asked.

***

I stopped at my normal hotel stop in Santa Nella on the way back. There was a loud cacophony of shrieking sound over the hotel that I had never heard before. On closer inspection I saw that it was a huge  flock of starlings. It was Hitchcockian and intense. They were shitting everywhere and you couldn't even touch the handrails. Creepy. If it had been my hotel I think that I would have pulled out the shotguns. They have raised their price twenty bucks and stopped taking coupons, so I may have to find a new resting spot.

***

Took a tiny bit of guff about my "trip to the Castro." Will only say that I think there should be a spot for J.Edgar Hoover and Clyde on the Rainbow Walk as well.

***

Saw my Dad on the way back. He may have a tumor behind his eye. It is shut and he won't stop itching it. He is in a sort of V.A. hospice daycare. He doesn't know my name but did call me son, which was nice. I hope that he has a soft landing as well. I appreciate my stepmother's devotion so much and don't know what we would do without her.

***

A rush is falling asleep in the second lane only to wake up and find that you are still alive and driving 75 miles per hour. Three occasions yesterday. I stopped and took a short nap.

Family Feud

Rainbow Honor Walk

Isak Lindenauer is a friend in San Francisco. He is also one of the preeminent antique dealers in the country, specializing in arts and crafts and early twentieth century decorative arts. Isak is a rare bird in that he is one of the few antique dealers in this day and age that engages in serious scholarship, having written and researched extensively on early San Francisco artisans like August Tiesselinck and Dirk Van Erp. I have always respected his impeccable taste and his devotion to the aesthetic period that he loves.

Isak is also very active in the gay community. His shop is located in the heart of the Castro at 4143 19th St. SE in San Francisco.

Isak recently contacted me about a project he has been heavily involved in for the last two years, the Rainbow Honor Walk. He is the founder and co-chair with David Perry of an all volunteer steering committee which is shepherding this project forward. With the unanimous support of the full San Francisco Board of Supervisor and the Department of Public Works, they are working to establish a sidewalk honor walk to celebrate the accomplishments of the LBGT community. Here are the first twenty names to be placed on the walk:

Jane Addams (1860-1935)
James Baldwin (1924-1987)
George Choy (1960-1993)
Federico García Lorca (1898-1936)
Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997)
Keith Haring (1958-1990)
Harry Hay (1912-2002)
Sylvester James (1947-1988)
Christine Jorgensen (1926-1989)
Frida Kahlo (1907-1954)
Del Martin (1921-2008)
Yukio Mishima (1925-1970)
Bayard Rustin (1912-1987)
Randy Shilts (1951-1994)
Gertrude Stein (1874-1946)
Alan Turing (1912-1954)
Tom Waddell (1937-1987)
Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)
Tennessee Williams (1911-1983)
Virginia Woolf (1882-1941)

The group is moving towards getting a 501 C-3 non profit tax designation. They are currently working with the Castro Benefits District board as a sponsor so they can accept tax deductible donations in the interim. They have a website - rainbowhonorwalk.org and are on Facebook - rainbowhonorwalk.com where they hope all supporters will "friend" the project to spread the word.

If you are interested in helping them, donations and correspondence may be mailed to:
Rainbow Honor Walk
584 Castro Street, #113
San Francisco, California 94114

Tax Deductible Donations may be made to the "Castro Community Benefit District" and notated for "Rainbow Honor Walk" at the bottom of the check.

Flying Dragon

I have been helping an elderly couple dispose of their estate for the last several months. They bought exquisite oriental pieces in the 1950's and 60's. Last month I sold a rare chinese recumbent elephant for them. They recently consigned this magnificent japanese cloisonné dragon vase. It is quite large, standing approximately 11" tall and 9" square.

The early gilt wire piece dates to about 1870-1880 and was probably made in Nagoya. I found a similar vase on the cover of an old japanese cloisonné book. The work was painstaking and precise with each color fired separately. Some of the cells have inherent color changes which must have been quite difficult to achieve. The inner construction is precise and superb and even the bottom is intricately finished.

I am displaying the piece at San Francisco and thought I better take pictures before it leaves. It is one of the finest objects that I have ever had.

Thin Line Between Love And Hate

Mean Streets

I bought this great 24 x 30" oil of these young ladies in the mission district yesterday. I believe that they may be girl scouts trying to sell some cookies. A man came by and told me that the location was 18th and South Van Ness in the Mission District of San Francisco. Whiz Burgers is in the background. I think that the feel of the painting is early seventies from the cars and the brushwork.

I can't make the signature, something like Juva maybe. The seller told me that it was purchased from a gallery originally. Kind of Hopper meets Thiebaud. Really dig.

***

Last night Melissa and Gary came down to the South Bay to join me for dinner. We picked an old warhorse, The Iron Gate in Belmont. The Iron Gate is one of those elegant restaurants of yesteryear where tuxedo clad staff deliver old world service. Decidedly Ratpack. It is the kind of place to take your parents, something I did when my father was able. 

Salads are made tableside and lots of dishes are flambe'd. Foster, Jubilee, curbside caesar's. Chateaubriand. It is a charming place to enjoy a swank evening. 

Last night we started off with escargot, which was delicious. Gary and Melissa split a spinach salad which was torched tableside. I had a great bowl of minestrone. They brought out nice blackberry sorbet's between courses. We ordered our entree's and then things started to get weird.

There was a couple sitting right behind us with serious issues. He was a thirtysomething mediterranean sort that might have driven a Transam or Vette. Ring on his thumb, a real dandy. Very well dressed but quite subordinate companion in a black and white houndstooth coat. The vibes were getting really bad as he started letting her have it. Very dark cat. They ordered steak diane and then decided they didn't want it, than they did again . He decided to be a nasty prick. People started turning their heads. Suddenly it rose to a crescendo as he started pounding his cutlery on the table shouting "fuck, fuck, fuck!" The poor girl paid the bill and hustled him out as the rest of us shook our heads in bewilderment.

We got our entrees. I had sand dabs that were off menu. My favorite fish, they were lightly battered, flavorful and just perfect. Melissa had a New York steak and Gary had veal saltimbocca. Her steak came out overcooked and she sent it back. The next one was tough. Gary was happy with his dish as was I. 

We ended the meal with delicious soufleés, both grand marnier and chocolate.  They couldn't have been better. Our waiter's were attentive and charming. There is no nouvelle to be found at the Iron Gate. The same chef for the last two decades. Nothing ever changes. A clientele on the far side of the AARP divide. If you want a nice dinner and an old school evening in a classy joint that is showing it's age a bit, check out this neat restaurant. Next time I want to try the Tournedos Rossini with truffles and pate.

Governor Brown

I have always been a big Jerry Brown guy, but the California Governor is impressing me anew with his tough, no nonsense attitude.

I applaud his going after the redevelopment agencies. I have worked with various redevelopment agencies in my years as a developer and contractor and my brother and father's firm had extensive dealings with them. Never have I seen fiefdoms so rife with fraud and favoritism. With no practical oversight. The blight designations can be totally spurious. Not all redevelopment agencies are bad but I can recall more than a couple that were borderline criminal. I think that the Governor is on the right track in seeking these deep painful cuts.

He also is stopping the ex governator's plan to sale/leaseback 11 state owned buildings - a move the independent Legislative Analyst says will cost the state about 6 billion smackeroos.

And he flew coach down to Los Angeles the other day and used his senior discount.

Way to go, Jerry!

and yes, I know... he nailed Ronstadt too.

Doctor Robert

I drove up to the Bay Area again yesterday, stopping off to stay with the greatest chef I know, Melissa Rossi and her boyfriend Gary in Berkeley. I was burnt out from the drive and we stayed home and had a simple supper.


They are hooked on the new Showtime series Shameless with William Macy and Joan Cusack and we watched it on demand. What a great freaking show. I am not a television guy and it's probably a good thing but I really recommend this frenetic series. I believe that there have been five shows since the series debut in early January.


It was hard because Melissa wanted to talk and whatever is going on with me has made it hard for me to communicate, recently. It's like something weird is happening inside my brain. And people are reacting very strangely to me. I said hello to two young chicanos in front of my store and one of them yelled and called me a puta. A little while later I repeated my entreaty with two older latina women and they acted like I wasn't even there. Another odd response happened this evening while checking into my hotel. I think I may need some quiet time by myself to get my mojo back. My circuits are obviously misfiring.


***


A friend came by the shop the other day to tell me that his wife had gone two years between mammograms and had been recently diagnosed with a very aggressive breast cancer. She is going to undergo a radical double mastectomy this week and then a particularly nasty chemo for a year. I wish her the very best. Women need to have regular mammograms. Catch these things as early as possible.


I started trying to relay any wisdom I had gleaned from fighting various cancers for the last 25 years. It is harder for my friend as his wife is gluten intolerant and the diet will be more difficult. But a few suggestions from me:


1. Eat a banana every day in the hospital. Hospital rooms seem to suck out all your potassium.
2. Don't be afraid to ask for crackers. Graham crackers are very nice.
3. Take charge of your recovery. Don't lay it on a doctor, no matter how wonderful he or she is. They say commitment is like bacon and eggs. The chicken (or doctor) has a certain level of commitment, but the pig is all in. You are the pig and it's your life. After the fifth recurrence of my bladder, kidney and ureter cancer, I found a new doctor, pissing off a very good friend. He got over it. It was the right thing to do.
4. Take as little pain medication as you possibly can. If you can tolerate it and can get over your moral qualms, smoke or ingest marijuana. I went through my last kidney removal on an aspirin and joints. My pain level never rose above two on a ten scale. Ditto my mitral valve heart surgery. When they put me on narcotics my pain level was always at eight or nine, my body craving more dilaudid and convincing me I was in pain. Pot helps you detach and view your predicament as more of a third party. Best thing around for nausea too.
5. Marinol is worthless. They pull everything fun out of pot and leave you with a stupid round pill that does nothing. Don't bother.
6. It is my experience that cancer patients all make up two lists during their travails: those that should have been there and never showed and one for those that came unannounced out of the blue and helped immensely. Let them help.
7. Kubler Ross talked about the five classic ways we react to grief - anger, denial,  bargaining, depression and acceptance. I reacted with anger. Lo and behold a Texas hospital did a study and found that angry people lived longer. It is okay to be pissed off.
8. When I first got sick in 1985, I got this huge lust for plums. They were bringing lugs in to the hospital room. Couldn't get enough of them. About a year later I was listening to a cancer doctor on the radio who said that they had found an acid under the skin of plums that helped fight cancer. Listen to your body. It knows what it needs!
9. After two or three years of not getting much better, I went to the biomedical library at UCSD and found every research study being done on my particular cancer everywhere in the world. I ended up seeing Dr. Sheldon Hendler in La Jolla and smuggling an unapproved drug up from Mexico, isoprinosine, as well as some other cutting edge stuff. I was getting lymphocyte enumeration panels from Specialty Labs and was able to chart my own t-cell recovery. I became part of a BCG research study. Do what ever you have to do, you have one life!
10. Tell the people you love that you love them. Don't be a day late.
11. If you need a long term i.v. try to get it in the arm instead of the hand. After a few days, hand placements can really hurt.
12. In my experience, the cancer itself never hurt. The stints hurt, the attrition of anesthesia and the whole hospital grind, sweaty sheets, becoming a human pinata, etc., but the cancer did not. But I was lucky enough to go through an immunotherapy program instead of chemo, there may be pain involved there.
13. If you do go through chemo, you may come back with curly hair.
14. Once you've had the visit from Mister C, you spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.
15. Cancer is obviously not an automatic death sentence. Cure rates have risen dramatically and many people who have faced the same cancers you may be facing are living long, rich, productive lives. Nevertheless some people may want to come around and start administering last rites. They tend to suck all of the oxygen out of the room. I kicked my own mother out of the hospital when I had my first surgery for indulging in this maudlin behavior. You may have to temporarily excise negative people from your life. On the flip side, on some occasions, certain asshole friends who you may have thought that you could count on, will now avoid you like the plague, as if the stuff was contagious. Let them go too.


I don't talk about my cancer experience much on the blog but it was a pivotal event of my life. I honestly can tell you that cancer was one of the greatest blessings that I have ever had. Because it taught me how to live for the moment. I never knew how long I had to live but I did know that I was going to live whatever life I had left to the fullest, on my terms. My friend John Favors told me that he loved me the other day and that he is choosing to surround himself with people who have faced death in their lives. An interesting perspective. I think that the prospect of facing death helped strengthen me. A few years ago I found out that I had less than a ten percent chance of making it three years after my initial diagnosis. Ha, I fooled them. But I did mention that if I knew that my chances were so shitty, I would have taken better care of myself.


I hope that all of you stay well. If anyone ever needs to talk about anything that they are going through physically privately with me, I am here for you. Once you have gotten the big C, you are part of my family. I want to help you in any way that I can.


Peace and Health.

54-46 was my number

I have come not to bury them but to praise them...

Interesting couple of days. It has been a really good month in the shop and I leave again for San Francisco this week for another show. Wanted to offer a few thoughts.

***

In the spirit of fair play a few commendations are in order.

To George Bush, who said that America was in danger of becoming a nativist country and who seemed to be speaking counter to many in his party. The article here.  He has been an excellent former president, never taken shots at his successor and has been a voice of reason and tolerance lately.

"My point is, we've been through this kind of period of isolationism, protectionism, nativism," he said. "I'm a little concerned that we may be going through the same period. I hope that these "isms" pass," he said, adding that it would allow the U.S. a more orderly look at immigration policy.Bush said growing up in Texas gave him the opportunity to interact with different cultures."We ought to welcome people from different cultures to America," he said.

***

To William Kristol, conservative editor of the Weekly Standard for calling out Glenn Beck for fear mongering.

When Glenn Beck rants about the caliphate taking over the Middle East from Morocco to the Philippines, and lists (invents?) the connections between caliphate-promoters and the American left, he brings to mind no one so much as Robert Welch and the John Birch Society. He's marginalizing himself, just as his predecessors did back in the early 1960s.

It is nice to hear from moderate republicans who are willing to brook the zanies and have the intellectual integrity to take a temperate stance in these matters.

***

And across the pond a nasty little skuffle is brewing between the British government, who have had enough of their muslim citizens and guests fomenting terrorist attacks at their doorstop and the typical mamby pamby bleeding heart liberals at Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch who never met a terrorist they didn't love. An interesting article here in the DailyMail.

Apparently an Al Qaeda operative named Abid Naseer who came to Britain as a student and was ruled guilty of being complicit in attack planning of a bombing at the Arndale Centre in Manchester, England  and planned subway attacks in New York is fighting extradition to Pakistan on the grounds that he may be tortured.

Last May, a court ruled Al Qaeda operative Abid Naseer and his accomplice Ahmad Faraz Khan could not be deported because it would infringe their human rights.

The pair were planning a 'mass casualty attack', probably against shoppers at the Arndale Centre in Manchester over the Easter holiday last year.

But judges said Naseer, 24, and 26-year-old Faraz Khan - who came to Britain as students - should not be sent back to Pakistan because of the risk they could be tortured.

Critics branded the judgment by the Special Immigration Appeals Commission was 'outrageous' and Home Secretary Theresa May expressed her disappointment.

European judges have turned Britain into a ‘safe haven’ for foreign terrorists, the independent reviewer of anti-terror laws warned yesterday. Lord Carlile said rulings by the European Court of Human Rights had undermined efforts to deport dangerous individuals intent on causing mayhem. The Liberal Democrat peer and QC attacked the court for refusing to allow the risk of harm to British citizens to be weighed in deportation hearings. Instead, only the human rights of the suspected terrorist can be taken into account.

‘The effect [of the court’s rulings] is to make the UK a safe haven for some individuals whose determination is to damage the UK and its citizens – hardly a satisfactory situation save for the purist,’ he said.

Lord Carlile’s comments angered human rights groups. Kate Allen, UK director at Amnesty International said: ‘The global ban on deporting people to countries where they’re at risk of torture exists for a very good reason – to protect us all from the threat of being tortured.’

God save us from these idiots. A bullet would be much cheaper.

***

 Finally a big bronx cheer to the Department of Agriculture for caving to Monsanto and deregulating genetically modified alfalfa (GM) which is resistant to the herbicide Roundup. The Center for Food Safety and other opponents in the scientific community are worried about these strains not being geographically isolated so that they are now free to contaminate all the natural strains. Power of the agribusiness buck trumps common sense once again. This is an accident waiting to happen.

Contamination of organic and traditional crops by recently deregulated, genetically modified alfalfa is inevitable, say experts in the field.

"Some degree of cross-pollination will occur regardless of what mechanism is going to be put in place,"  predicted Jeff Wolt, an agronomist with Iowa State University's Seed Science Center.

Aliens drop in on Jerusalem

I found it on Fox News, it has to be on the level.

Beep Beep

This morning, friend and blast reader Bill LeMasters sent over this great shot of a beautiful roadrunner that hangs out at his place. Nice lizard breakfast.

Opportunity

Temecula Red

People that love wine in my area have long bemoaned the lack of decent reds from the Temecula region. My friend Jeaneane characterizes the taste as dirt flavored. Something peculiar to the terroir. We have tasted exactly one great local red, a Bailey Meritage and it was beaucoup expensive.

One of my clients, Marlene Woodworth from Woodworth Vinyards in De Luz, stopped by yesterday to tell me that her pinot noir just won a blind tasting that got it into the Pinot Noir Shootout in San Francisco. Her microclimate is very cool. She is bringing a bottle over for us to try and we wish her well and hope that she has great success at the competition. Maybe we will one day evolve into a major pinot destination.

Woodworth Vineyards Pinot Noir Among the Best

Category: In the News  |  Permalink

Published: Tuesday, January 25, 2011

PRESS RELEASE

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

TEMECULA, Calif. When you think of wine regions producing great Pinot Noir, the Sonoma coast, Russian River, Santa Barbara and the Willamette Valley come to mind. You now can add the Temecula Valley to that list.

One of the biggest surprises of the 9th annual Pinot Noir Shootout is Woodworth Vineyards, a micro-winery in the De Luz hills west of Temecula that is making a very big name for itself.

Woodworth's 2008 Pinot Noir is among 64 top wines to be featured at the blind tasting portion of the Pinot Noir Summit to be held in San Francisco on Feb. 26. The wines were culled from more than 360 competing wines from the United States, France, Italy, Australia and New Zealand. Since October, Pinot Noir experts have been evaluating and selecting the best Pinots for the final tasting event at the Summit.

Woodworth is the only winery in the Temecula Valley wine-growing region to produce a still wine from Pinot Noir grapes grown in its own vineyard.

"In general, Southern California is too hot to grow Pinot Noir," said Marlene Woodworth, co-owner. "But we're blessed with a great micro-climate here in De Luz that gives us warm days but very cool nights coupled with coastal fog in the mornings, a good combination for Pinot."

The climatic diversity of the Temecula Valley wine growing region surprised quite a few.

"I was shocked and pleased," said Barbara Drady, Pinot Noir Summit organizer and wine evangelist. "Based on how good the wine is, the appellation is a surprise and I think you'll have some fun converting some Pinot Lovers that don't think it's possible to make a delicious Pinot from Temecula."

Other wineries in the Temecula Valley use grapes from other vineyards to make Pinot and a small number of Pinot grapes go into making a sparkling wine, but Woodworth is the lone winery to control production from the vine to bottle.

Described as the "most romantic of wines," the 2008 Pinot Noir ($33) from Woodworth has notes of bright cherry and little bit of spice followed by a big berry taste accentuated by soft tannins and a lingering finish with smoky hints of tobacco.

The Woodworths purchased 45 acres in De Luz in 2000. Eight acres are planted with grapes, including nearly 3 acres devoted exclusively to Pinot Noir. The Pinot vines were grafted onto Syrah, Carmenere and Cabernet Sauvignon root stock over the last five years. Woodworth Vineyards also produce Chardonnay, Syrah, Merlot, a white Merlot (Golden Maggie), a blend of Chardonnay and Muscat (Sweet Sophie) and a red blend (Black Dog). You can learn more about Woodworth Vineyards at www.woodworthwine.com.

Congratulations!

My buddy San Mateo Mike, the scourge of the billiard halls from east Palo Alto to San Bruno, sent me a picture of his beautiful new baby girl from Thailand, Harper. Mazel Tov, my friend.

Nina Simone

Taken to the cleaners

Leslie and I just came back from a quick jaunt up to Napa and back with a few friends. It was absolutely gorgeous, about 15 degrees warmer than chilly San Diego, surprisingly. We had a marvelous couple of days, with great traveling companions that we are very comfortable with.

Any long time reader of the Blue Heron Blast would probably surmise that we were hunting good food and wine this week, an elusive quarry and pursuit that motivates much of our time. You would not be wrong.

We left on our northern quest a few minutes after six in the morning, in a rented Navigator. All of our possessions had been distilled into the smallest suitcases imaginable. Which would have been fine if we had not brought so much food for the trip. Bags of baguettes and crackers, cheeses and truffle butter, soppressata and salami from Venissimo, we were loaded for bear. I hate to imagine how much weight I have gained in a mere three days, something probably exacerbated by the prednisone I have been taking lately.

Leslie had brought a nice selection of music along and we segued nicely from Beeethoven to early Rolling Stones. We actually rolled into Napa at about 2:45 in the afternoon. Time passes quicker in a car with good conversation.

We had our reservations for the French Laundry on Wednesday night and discussed our collective desire to arrive there hungry and fairly sober. We stopped at our only winery of the trip, a scoot over to Chandon, Renée having a slight sulfite allergy as I do, and champagne tending not to hurt one too much.

The champagne was alright, nothing extraordinary. The Pinot Noir reserve wasn't bad. We had to pay about $20.00 for the tasting, which tells you how long it has been since I have been to Napa, since I don't recall ever paying for booze before. The server was a bit irritating and over forward and I ensconced myself on a high table far away from him in order to keep everything in the happy zone.

After our tasting we checked into our hotel, the Bardessono, an absolutely fantastic new boutique hotel with every amenity and state of the art furnishings. Totally green, Leed platinum certified. The rooms, which were upgraded for us, had steam rooms, hi- tech whirlpools, outdoor showers, private decks, electric shutters and just could not have been nicer. The foyer was decorated with long trails of tillandsia or air plants. The architecture was a nice cross between bauhaus and zen. The toilets not only talked to you, but they spritzed, shampooed and gave your most private real estate a lovely coiffure.

When we left, the affable General Manager Jim Treadway came out and thanked us. A first class guy and a first class hotel.

We were thinking about the culinary adventure that awaited us the next day and thought that we should eat simple and relaxed the first night. We settled on an old reliable outside of Napa, Bistro Don Giovanni. Situated in a vineyard, always loud, always packed, the last time I was there I had fantastic sand dabs, which were now unfortunately off the menu.

I had one of those ubiquitous walnut, pear, blue cheese salads, which was good but a bit heavy on the dressing. I ordered short rib risotto fritters for the table that were terrific. For my entree I had strongly spiced lamb meatballs that tasted a bit greek or mediterranean. Lots of oregano and bursting with flavor. All of us enjoyed our dinners, which tended to northern italian. A smaller, scaled down menu than I remember, but one that still delivered. R. had a nice short rib on risotto. Leslie had a duck confit salad and a potato, celery root, artichoke soup.

We returned to our hotel and retired for the night. Slept the sleep of the dead, Ren said that she got 7 hours in for the first time in memory. I got up about 6:30 and headed over to Bouchon Bakery for out of this world almond croissants and coffee. Then a trip back to the hotel lobby where I got to indulge in a full reading of the Financial Times, New York Times, Wall Street Journal and San Francisco Chronicle.

We piled into the car for a scenic trip around Rutherford and towards Lake Berryessa and eventually made it to another foodie heaven, Dean and Deluca. We were all so transfixed with the great selection of everything, from wine to exotic salts and condiments. Murderer's row of prosciutto. Spent a small fortune.

Renée's son and his girlfriend drove up and had lunch with us at our hotel. We had the large table in the dining room to ourselves. D. and I had swordfish sandwiches on Brioche. All very tasty fare. After lunch Renée decided to stick around and hang out with her baby Chris and Justine. 

Leslie, R and D and I drove up to Calistoga and received mudbath's at the little Golden Haven Resort. It was our friends' first slide into the molten goo and they loved it. Leslie said that I fell asleep on the table and started snoring as did D. After the mud you shower off and get in the mineral water hot tub. Then you shower again and make sure that you have freed all of your orifices from unwanted sediment. Then you get blanket wrapped in a dark candlelit room with a cool towel on your forehead and proceed to zoom off into space. Great way to banish all the sniggling aches and pains and the stress of real life.

We drove back to Yountville and stopped and walked through the French Laundry gardens, looking at the prospective vegetables that might be gracing our plates later that evening. We finally went back to the hotel and chilled, with a lot of nervous conversation on my part regarding the evening ahead. This was going to be big. 

***

 At approximately 6:10 we started walking towards the French Laundry. The trellis of the old stone building was covered with old vegetation and I noticed immaculately raked side yards. The building was originally built by a Scotsman at the turn of the century and housed a saloon. A law was subsequently passed that you could not serve alcohol within 1000 feet of the house of a veteran and in the twenties it became a french steam laundry. Thomas Keller bought the restaurant in 1994. It was named best restaurant in the world in 2003 and 2004. It has won multitudes of awards, a third Michelin Star and it's chefs have gone on to great things around the country. As you probably know.

We were quickly seated at 6:30 at a good table. One of my fellow diners remarked that it was nice to not be squeezed in to a too small table. Everybody in the restaurant seemed very well dressed, my companions no exception. There were a lot of asian people in the restaurant. An asian gent at the next table tried to take his sport coat off and was quickly and gently remonstrated.

I have somehow misplaced my copy of the menu and will have to recount the meal from memory.  But let me say that it was one of the most incredible eating experiences of my life. Not the best, not the most pleasurable, but definitely the most complex. In fact, I am still processing my adventure, trying to make sense of the whole thing. Because this one had me on the ropes, maybe unmasked as a charlatan and definitely begging for mercy at one point.

Our server/liaison Brian briefed us on the meal and the two nine course menus, one meat oriented and one mainly vegetables with some meat. He asked us about any known food allergies and Leslie and I begged off on the caviar and oyster first course, Sabayon of Pearl Tapioca with Malpeque Oysters and Ossetra, having developed some sort of weird reactions to the mollusks in the last several years. We then ordered, all going left side menu except for Renée who went the vegetable route. D ordered a 2007 Hirsch Pinot Noir, which was delicious and practically the first alcohol of the day.

The menu was a bit florid. I noticed an item on the vegetable side titled Jidori hen egg and couldn't suppress the urge to ask Brian if the Jidori roosters were in the habit of laying eggs as well. My query was met with a cool but professional smile.

Our meal started with gougéres, little puff pastries of gruyere that literally melted in our mouths. I could have powered twenty or thirty of these little guys without a problem. This course gave way to the famous salmon tartare cones that are probably one of the restaurant's signature dishes. The amusebouche of all amusebouches. Absolutely delicious. The comfort food portion of the meal was now officially over and we hadn't even eaten our first true course. 

Leslie and I started with ossetra caviar over some sort of saki infused ice for our substitution. I really liked it, she thought that it was too simple for her taste. The danger you run into when substituting, I suppose.

The next offering was a moulard duck pate de fois gras au torchon on an elaborate base of flavors including pickled asian pear relish, celery, parsnip purée and vanilla scented sauternes reduction. It was very good and very rich and they brought out warm brioche to slather it onto.

It was at this point that I started checking out our fellow diners. At the next table was an elegant silver haired gentleman who I could swear was a famous writer or newsman. The rest of our room was mainly chinese. 

Anyone who has traveled in the last several years can attest that the chinese and russians seem to be the only folks left with any money. We had a foursome of chinese in front of us that were fascinating. Total barbarians. We watched in amazement as the man stabbed the brioche and attempted to put the whole thing in his mouth. He was also sucking his pate off the end of his dinner knife. It was like sharing a meal with Attila the hun or Ghengis Khan. No longer do I want to hear anything about my lack of table manners.

We were then treated to the butter poached lobster on the beet paint with a little potato chip hat like the dancing hippos in Fantasia. Perfect dish. Truly gorgeous artistically on the rich beet purple ground.

The next course was I think the cobia, an atlantic fish, on red pepper paint. R had the bouillabaisse. This was the moment in the meal where things started getting a little bit weird. There were so many disparate food tastes going off that my mouth was exploding like a firecracker, a pattern that continued throughout the rest of the meal. The fish itself was prepared wonderfully, and colorfully I might add, but it ventured into decidedly new turf with all the discordant flavors. Something they were trying to do.

I have had friends run screaming from the French Laundry. I had some say they left hungry, which I just can't believe. I have friends that absolutely love the place. I really don't know where I stand, honestly. This is definitely not comfort food, it is the most challenging fare I have ever eaten. I think that I have only eaten at a similar restaurant one time in my life. The food is so complex, the litmus test and demarcation line so far above "tastes good" that at times I felt like I was in a fifteen round prize fight, doing little rope a dopes in the corner, fighting for air. Sensory bombard the palette, the culinary equivalent of a major acid trip.

Fish gave way to kurobata pork belly, freaking divine, just the right amount of underlying fat. Pork was followed by beef, a succulent and perfectly cooked tenderloin strip and a small square of braised brisket, whose demiglaze was a bit too rich for me but something everybody else loved. Somehow another pinot got ordered, an El Molino of the same vintage.

I frankly don't know what the hell else I ate, since I started fading into the wainscoting. My friends said that I looked real quiet and weird for about three courses. They said that they have never seen me more at a loss for words. I was in lala land. Pretty close to shnockered. The service was a bit slow and I had to stifle a yawn several times as did my dinner mates. The server came by and I think I pleaded for him to make it stop but he kept saying "just one more course" and I acquiesced  and just kept eating so as not to embarrass my wife and sully my family honor.

Little food memories rise out of my altered state and present themselves now on the day after; a baby radish with top leaf that was practically translucent and with no bite, grapefruit seeds in the sorbet exploding in my mouth like a roman candle. It was frankly turning into a bit of an ordeal. Wonderful and terrible at the same time. Because we had been hit with everything short of the kitchen sink. Who in their right mind would have porkbelly, fish, lobster, beef, steak and moulard all in one meal? Not to mention all the bread I had stupidly slammed down, along with the two kinds of butter.  

I am taken by the artistry of Keller's plates and the subtle and sophisticated flavors in his food. But everything is pushed so far. I found myself fantasizing for just one simple course in the middle of this titanic effort. Something that was just well cooked and spoke for itself without reaching for the epicurean apogee. I have noticed some restaurants lately that try to push the food beyond good and make it difficult to eat, not necessarily this one. But I certainly felt challenged. Perhaps my clumsy palette has been affected by too many double cheeseburgers?

I wondered how many of the rich patrons were there for the food and how many who merely wanted to check the French Laundry off their birding list? Our hosts told me about once being seated at 9:30 and not getting out until 1:30 in the morning. I would definitely crack. Don't ever go and get seated after 7, whatever you do.

Back to the feast: I seem to recall a chocolate ganache dessert with a sour cherry that was trickier than it was delicious, then perfect tiny doughnuts, a sorbet and more snappy little chocolates. D had some beautiful pistachio ice affair. Coffee was served to those that requested it. The night was capped with delicious little cups of chocolate fondant, which helped us come back to earth. Shortbread cookies to go. We got a quick tour of the kitchen after the meal. Some very serious cooks. Very impressive, to say the least.

We had equipped ourselves well and survived the expedition. Made Fallbrook proud. I think that there were about twelve courses. I appreciate the invitation and kindness of my hosts. I don't know that I will ever be back. I have planted my flag on this mountain of gourmandise but like Hillary have "been there, done that" and may not need to do it again. Four or five courses would be fine but this gustatory exercise in pure excess sent my nervous system into full tilt. Sproing! The restaurant was everything they said it was and more. Herculean. I just may not have the huevos anymore to tackle such an epic meal.

I wonder about places like the French Laundry. Purportedly Thomas Keller runs a small empire with his various restaurants, Per Se, Ad Hoc, Bouchon, etc. that employs about a thousand people. It must be hard to love what you are doing when you are involved in serving that many plates, employing that many people and have become a culinary institution. Bet he wishes he was slinging hash in an anonymous diner some days.

***

I wish that I could say that we, being overstuffed, fasted on the way home. The reality is that we continued to gorge ourselves silly on a variety of foodstuffs that I am too embarrassed to recount. Ended up at my favorite armenian chicken place, Zankou Chicken in Pasadena for protein, pickled turnips, hummus and garlic paste. Then back to Fallbrook just after dark.

It was an amazing three days. There is more of me standing than there was last week, I estimate about 6 lbs. more. Guiltriddenly hauled my ass into the gym this morning. Many thanks to my friends, wife and fellow diners. A whirlwind but an absolute ton of fun. Quite a trip.