Road Trip Day Two, Continued: Dancing Naked

Oh, after that last post I realize I may not have been clear: Andrew, and not the principal, was naked. Still, unbelievable! Turns out that Andrew found Circle Time boring and stripped down because his cousin Natalie had told him, “People should not wear clothing if they don’t want to.” The kids in the circle giggled. Andrew certainly did. Mrs. C did not. Perhaps his behavior was closer to the excesses of the ‘60’s than she’d like to recall. Not only did he strip down, he did a little dance and dashed away when Mrs. C and the assistant teacher attempted his apprehension. At various times this afternoon I talked with Andrew, the principal, my parents and Mrs. C. - and Kerin, who was feeling overwhelmed by the volume of orders coming in – all from the serene setting of our hotel deck. And I worked it all out, a flute of Roederer Brut Rosé in hand. Life is good – if complicated. I’m going to have a little talk with Natalie too, but that can wait…

I shouldn’t even talk about where I am! It’s such a little gem of a hotel, right on the Pacific coastline, but the secret is out, judging from the gushing praise in our room’s guestbook. But all right, I’ll tell you - Albion Inn. It’s in the tiny coastal town of Albion, just a few miles south of Mendocino. (Take a look at albionriverinn.com.) It’s a small and seriously romantic inn, and I was told that it’s usually foggy and cool. We lucked out, especially this time of year. I was entirely comfortable outdoors this afternoon, wrapped in my indispensable pashmina. (If you don’t have yours yet jot down RH-29.) From our deck in Room 19, we can see fishing boats, herons and the waves as they crash over the rocks. Wonderful! The gardens here are delightful, inspiring. The many shades of roses, dune grass, and the surprisingly blue sky could find their way into the color offerings of Red House. The inn’s small restaurant has the same incredible view that our room does, but framed by the gardens. And dinner tonight was truly romantic. If (when!) you come here, try to reserve the left corner table and eat early enough to watch the sunset. You will be enthralled. The inn does weddings, as you might guess, and we watched a sunset exchange of vows. Not that the truly inspired menu (especially the seafood) and extensive wine choices escaped our attention. This is not at all what you’d expect to find this far from SF. And what a coup for chef Stephen Smith to have escaped city life for a lovely setting like this one. I could spend weeks here! After that, I might find it a bit quiet and start to go insane. Napa offers more sun, a medium pace and of course, proximity to SF and the airport. But for a change (and we all need that) I will be back. (And returning guests get a 20% discount!)

Tomorrow – Mendocino and beyond!

Road Trip Day Two: Wild and Craggy Coast

It was another late start for Maddie and Michael. We opted for the Couples Massage after a big plate of waffles and I fell asleep! Must have been good, right? Oh yeah. You really have to put the Farmhouse Inn on your list of must-see Wine Country destinations. There are so many great places here that you can go just about anywhere and say, “This is it, I’ve found my ideal _______ .” (Choose: winery, inn, restaurant, or vantage point from which to savor a glass of wine.) You can find yourself thinking you are in Tuscany, Alsace or Provence. Really, with the variety of climates and soils, and appreciation for the good life, Wine Country could be the culmination of all those places. And this trip has reminded me how lucky I am to be able to run Red House from the heart of it all.

Today we set out to explore more of the North Coast appellations. The Anderson Valley is absolutely stunning and so uncrowded. Here’s why: it’s not exactly commuting distance to SF. I love the windy roads and the openness that changes into serious forest that hugs the coast of Mendocino County. It feels secluded. I heard that lots of marijuana is grown here, but that’s not why we came. (!!) The one winery we had to see was Roederer Estate, maker of - you guessed it – sparkling wine! (www.roedererestate.com) The parent company, Roederer Champagne, has a long history making the real thing. Here, they found the right parcel of land with optimal growing conditions for making exceptional California sparkling wines. They carefully control the process, using only their own lots and even devising their own trellising system. My pick: the 2000 L’Ermitage Cuvée, their Tête de Cuvée. This is France in a flute! Ok, I’m oversimplifying, but the cuvée is a considered balancing of reserves. The best grapes are combined with a dosage of the best years’ wines. The result is more layers and textures on the palate. And the bubbles are miniscule - a sure sign that Roederer knows what they’re doing. This wine has garnered plenty of attention – look for it and taste for yourself. The Brut Rosé was delightful too, with a pale salmon color that would look wonderful against a starched white linen tablecloth celebrating a harvest dinner. Not a bad color for a Red House polo either!

What an impressive place Roederer is. There is an authentic feel to the winery and the valley itself. Maybe it’s the quieter days of fall, but I expected the tasting room to be packed with people and the roads overrun with traffic. We stayed for a couple of hours, tasting everything - but I also had to take an unexpected phone call…

I learned that there are MANY wineries and tasting rooms to visit up here. We will save them for later – and not much later, I hope. I had planned to talk about the incredible place we are staying tonight. Alas, I will have to get to that later as I have to call Andrew’s principal now. The call I got earlier was from my mother saying he stripped naked during Circle Time today!

Road Trip or No Trip?

Mom and Dad just arrived in Napa! They want to experience every season here and we’ve just begun a new one. It’s also the nicest time of year to be in suburban New Jersey. Anyway, they are back at the elegantly appointed, faux-rustic Calistoga Ranch (calistogaranch.com) where they stayed when they came for Easter. Yes, I’m somewhat jealous of their outdoor living room, daily yoga and spa sessions, and of course the wine blending parties in the resort’s own cave. It’s a carefully cultivated sense of relaxation and it holds a lot of appeal for this business owner/mom.

I had a great idea. Why not leave Delia and Andrew with my parents to enjoy the lap of the Auberge Resort’s luxury - the pool, private lake, majestic hills and biking trails? Michael and I would hit the road in search of unexplored wineries, scenic coastline and rekindled romance, oh yeah…! But ---- No. That’s what the parents said at first. They sort of planned on the same sort of rekindling. I finally convinced them (using all of my best negotiating skills) that they could do THAT, with plenty of time for winery stops while the kids were in school. I asked for a week and got five days - deal!

Red House is doing great – double the business that we had a year ago! Several orders will come in next week, though. Kerin, for the first time, will be doing the initial quality control inspection. I’ve told her what to look for in my exacting detail. She also may have client contact beyond taking messages. This is also new for her, and I can only hope nothing major comes up that requires a quick decision. Good luck, Kerin!

But no guilt here. We need this little getaway and will return rested and ready for anything. We are quickly throwing some things in the car - not our best packing effort, but we want to GO!! It’s going to be a late start but we’re almost on our way west!

I never….

Late summer is a great time of year almost anywhere, but even better in Napa, where the sunsets seem to intensify even as they’re disappearing more quickly every night. I had the best of intentions: four wine country couples ditching our kids and responsibilities for a summer night dining under the stars. One couple would leave before dessert.

With Andrew and Delia gone for sleepovers, Michael helped me string lanterns and lights. We set a long table with starched linens (still trying to recreate the French Laundry look) and decorated with lots of white candles and “only-in-Napa” details like a multiple sea salt tasting. I added bowls of olives, vases of peonies and goblets of water with mint from my own Mother’s Day garden. The table could not have looked more romantic.

“Nothing But Napa” was our theme. Each couple was assigned a course: salad, cheese or dessert using local, artisanal ingredients. They had to pair Napa (of course!) wine with whatever they created. As hosts, we prepared the main dish: grilled Niman Ranch pork kebabs with heirloom baby eggplant, chocolate bell pepper, red onion and golden tomatoes. We also did some easy appetizers including a mini Caprese salad of little mozzarella balls and green tomato on purple basil that I also grew – beautiful! Our wine was the perennial festive favorite, Frank Family Rouge. This really red sparkler stands up to barbecue, and just looking at it makes me happy.

With happy in mind, and plenty of good food and wine in circulation, I suggested we play a little game I’d heard about called “I never…” Apparently, I missed Michael’s look of panic. Here’s how it works: one person says something like, “I never… traveled to Spain.” The person who has been to Spain goes next. Or if there’s more than one Spanish traveler then it’s whoever’s seated closest. Then that person makes a true statement. Fun, right? For a while, you bet! Then it was “John Doe’s” turn. He said, rather blithely, “I’ve never…been happily married.” Ooooooh!!! There was a collective gasp, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the backyard. I shot him a glance with a puzzled smile - he was kidding, right? Mrs. Doe didn’t take the time to consider, she ran inside the house. John followed her in, muttering an apology. (To us or to her?) Then, CRASH! The sound of breaking crystal was followed by the silent realization that it was no accident. Some yelling ensued and then a second CRASH! Ok, that was IT! Risking injury or trying to stop it - I don’t know, I ran in like a firefighter. There were lots of little pieces. My infrequently used sherry glasses, I think. I’m no CSI, but it looked like they had been thrown at someone headed for the door. At least I wasn’t using our wedding crystal tonight. No blood, that was good. No bodies – both had apparently fled the scene. Together? Who knows? Michael was already inside sweeping, mindful that the dessert course was next.

Oh boy. All of us were a bit rattled, but with a really good conversation topic to pair with our blackberry clafoutis. Turns out that (and I didn’t know this) when John and Jane got married, Jane said, “I’m his fourth and last wife.” The consensus at our table was that she was probably incorrect, which led to another topic: how many marriages is enough? And, over coffee (which unfortunately had to be sourced outside Napa) we six decided that the magic number is three. If you can’t get it right by the third marriage then it’s time to opt out for the life monastic. Not that the Supreme Court is taking notes from our little dinner party, but resolution is good…

I made another decision over dessert: I never… will do this game again!

Today’s letter is K.

Well, it’s happened. My final child has started kindergarten. Gone are the carefree days of gluing macaroni on cigar boxes, spray painting them gold and hoping they’d dry in time for Mother’s Tea Party Day. Actually, teas were more my own preschool experience than Andrew’s. He had field trips and cultural celebration days. I don’t know if they outfit California Kindergarteners with laptops yet, but I know they are expected to do more than glue and wield crayons. They are supposed to KNOW something, Delia told him so. We’ll see about that, Andrew likes his crayons.

His first day of kindergarten wasn’t like my first day, which involved a brand new back-to-school outfit, Sesame Street lunch box and photo opportunities by the bus. These kids come by parent-driven car, and they are still wearing shorts and flip-flops, as summer likes to linger a bit in Napa. I had to get the lunch box, though, never mind that he doesn’t stay for lunch - it’ll keep his crayons from melting all over my car!

Delia has been beside herself. The prospect of her little brother attending the very same school has just been unbearable, despite the fact that the small kids are pretty much segregated in the yard with razor wire from the “Gen Pop” of big bullies and The Too-Cool Faction. (All right, I admit to exaggerating a little due to watching too many “police procedurals” late at night.) But some things never change and it’s still tough to be the little guy in a vast new field.

I had heard the campfire stories about Andrew’s assigned teacher, Mrs. C, from Delia and friends at caffeine and sugar-fueled sleepovers. Various sources had her visiting from another planet, or a member of the Donner party cannibal family. (Not both? No. The girls seemed puzzled that I’d asked.) Another said Mrs. C is older than dirt, but used to surf (?!) One of the more interesting observations shared was that Mrs. C. wears yellow eye shadow. Really? Chrome Yellow or Pale Butter? (??) When I explained what I meant, using Andrew’s box of 64 crayons, they shouted in unison: “CHROME!” And not only that, but she apparently color-coordinates right down to the shoes, which might also be chrome, turquoise or lime green. This I had to see.

I walked Andrew to his classroom down The Green Mile (ok, I’ll stop), past endless group photos of his teacher with every class she had taught since the earth was formed - or 1977. (She’s been teaching since 1977?! I lost count.) In each shot, she had the same flip hairdo that Marlo Thomas wore in her That Girl TV series! It was no surprise to see the same ‘do now. Mrs. C. clearly favors re-living daily an era I don’t mind having missed out on: the early ‘60’s. Bobby Darin, Annette Funicello and Malibu Barbie must all be the deities in Mrs. C’s pantheon. And today is Nautical Day. She sported white clam-diggers (after Labor Day, even!), and a red, white and blue boat neck sweater. As expected, all accessories carried the theme. And yes, friends, there is such a thing as navy eye shadow! Mrs. C. seemed effervescently happy, and who wouldn’t be? - having chosen to live in a time warp of comfortable sameness and a strong economy. I sort of get it – let the kids enjoy the Disney-fied view of America just a little bit longer. Plenty of time for the unfortunate realities in first grade… Hey, it works for Mrs. C. Maybe the rest of us can learn to defer the hard truths.

I left a somewhat stunned but smiling Andrew to figure it all out while I went to meet with clients.

Hear me?

A restaurant owner and repeat (i.e. favorite!) client invited Michael and me trackside to watch him race his fast and ancient Ferrari. I see him as the Ralph Lauren of restauranteurs, maybe because of his sports car collection or maybe because Ralph now has a restaurant also. Anyway, a day at Sonoma’s Infineon Raceway is not to be missed. (Check it out at infineonraceway.com.) Don’t like noise, dirt and fumes? Give it a shot anyway - think in terms of the list of things to do before you die. Mt. Everest is one, but that will always be last on my own list as it has little to do with the wine country lifestyle and a lot to do with overexertion and frostbite. But while auto racing is not necessarily my first choice for spending a weekend afternoon, it requires neither oxygen nor a sherpa. Well, perhaps oxygen, but let’s think positive scenarios.

Infineon, formerly called Sears Point (but not because of any commercial association with the retailer) is home to NASCAR events, NHRA drag racing and amateur racing, none of which hold any appeal for me. Infineon also has the Wine Country Classic, which interests me a lot. Like the Napa Wine Auction, it happens in late spring – my busiest time of year! Both offer opportunities for Red House that I want to pursue. The Classic includes every type of vintage car you can imagine, some with extensive racing pedigrees. Perhaps Red House should design a sleek drivers jacket – or at least a chamois towel to wipe the drool marks off the cars! Despite our being from New York, Michael has developed a case of California car fever and has decided he wants to drive down to Pebble Beach this summer for the annual Concours d’ Elegance. I think Ralph Lauren and his cars go to this event. If so, I’m going to be there too. I’d try to meet him, and after saying I love his cars, blah, blah, blah, I’d ask if he has any empire-building advice for me.


From the top of the spectator area we watched cars racing around the track as they negotiated harrowing turns and challenging elevation changes. The first few laps are interesting enough, but the mountains of Sonoma and vista of vineyards are even more so. Except to Michael. As my interest started to fade, I wandered down to the pavilion. This being Sonoma, I was able to get a glass of wine, and I also picked up a recipe for Lemon Risotto. Nice!

I put in my earplugs and ventured over to the track to take in the full multi-sensory experience, nothing like the acrid smell of burning rubber, gasoline and cigarette smoke (!). Seeing my client having a great time was worth the risk of conflagration. After he finished his race I ran over and asked him, “Can I sit in the car?” Over the din of engines he misunderstood and gave me a puzzled look, glancing around, and over a suddenly stilled track and with a somewhat disgusted expression he said, “Can we get to a bar?! Uh, no - I think my wife… has something planned.” Then he sort of backed away. I think I might have gasped. I’m sure there are many race groupies wanting to extend the fun off-track but I am not one of them. In fact, I’m not a race groupie at all! I mimed an emphatic “NO! NO!” but before I had to time to explain myself, the cars were on the track again and my client had disappeared into the pit area. I waved goodbye with a look of disappointment that could also have been misinterpreted (!) and went in search of Michael to confess. He hears these things all too often from me and will probably be the one explaining to the client. Sigh.

Greetings from dry ground

It took a full four hours on dry ground to recover from sailing, and I still felt sort of… rubbery, as if the memory of that fateful trip is held fast in every muscle. And, to send my guts a-quiver again, The Natalie News: My niece and her boyfriend Stefan have been spending the summer working at his parents’ boutique winery. I had assumed they were kept busy – it is prime tourist season, after all - but apparently they’ve had enough time to plan the building of an arboreal room where they plan to stay “for a while”. Inspired by the woman who lived in a tree to protest logging, these two have no apparent agenda in playing tree house, other than (I’m guessing) to spy on tourists. They’ve chosen a majestic oak outside the tasting room and received permission from Stefan’s laissez-faire parents. Well, I hope they behave themselves and not turn it into a party platform. Poor tree!

Work at Red House continues to challenge and delight. It’s never boring, but I sometimes wish there was less of it to accomplish during a day. I’m still in partial panic stage, finishing up the last details on fall product lines. I wish that determining quantity was an exact science, and a particular zipper-pull order is currently keeping me awake. I often second-guess myself – did I choose the right shade of blue? Is the button placket long enough? Do I like the grosgrain trim? That’s the downside to being a perfectionist. I am so protective of my brand that I am hesitant to delegate more – and Kerin wants to do more! My clients know that I believe in what I sell. I am an evangelist for Red House and will do whatever I can to keep customers coming back for more. The brand is also deeply committed to the wine country lifestyle and I find myself thinking of ways to stay in that mindset while constantly flying all over the globe. Yet I see the light at the end of the tunnel of overwork and the possibility of a late summer getaway with Michael and the kids (anywhere but the usual NY and China!). Maybe even a Napa “staycation”. The last thing I feel like doing right now is drawing up another to-do list but if the list is all wineries, then I’m all over it!

Sea of Pain, Part III

Once we were actually sailing, I started to feel even greener about the gills. The crew cheerfully mentioned that the currents in the bay are deceptively strong. You’d never know it looking at the surface of the water. I glanced over at Alcatraz, known as “The Rock.” I get it now - why wouldn’t all those escaping prisoners think they couldn’t swim for it? From their cells, they could smell the chocolate from the Ghirardelli Factory. How hard could it be to get there? Well, most of their bodies were never even found. I suppose some of the hardier inmates did eventually taste chocolate again. None of this mattered to me as I was thinking about it, because as much as I love the stuff myself, the thought of chocolate caused my stomach to lurch. Buck up, I told myself!

Was anyone else suffering? Not as far as I could see - everyone seemed to be laughing and drinking. And eating. Ugh, food – uh-oh!…….A moment of reckoning that would soon turn into retching! I knew it was time to act quickly to avoid humiliation. But where did the crew say the facilities were?! Why hadn’t I paid attention? Suddenly, I found myself puking the full 127’ length of the deck! (I had remembered the distance!) Gross! Near the bow, maybe, I just sort of sat myself down, and for a brief moment I thought I felt better. I looked up to see the underside of the Golden Gate Bridge. Cool! And then began heaving again. Michael finally came to my aid (he’d been chatting up a golf buddy) accompanied by the Second Mate. Presumably, the other hands on deck were pushing mops by now. They escorted me down to the bunks and made me eat Dramamine. Not soon enough, I fell asleep in a quasi-coma of shame, desperately hoping no one thought I over-drank and over-ate! And I was fearful that I might have caused the carefully applied varnish to disintegrate, thereby shortening the life of the historic ship. The Second Mate said not to worry. There was some consolation in hearing him say that I wasn’t the first to christen this ship with stomach contents. Some crew members (though not he) had suffered similarly. Some learned in this way that they weren’t cut out for seafaring. I can cross another career off my to-do list! So that was it. No rogue waves. No shark attacks. I was done in by a little pitching and a lot of puking. I missed out on awesome food, wine and potential business, but if the next event is on dry ground, look out!

Sea of Pain, Part II

I decided to postpone my forays to the buffet and bar as there would be plenty of time for that later. I wanted to network with the attendees before I got too distracted by the views and picture-taking.

Soon, the other “sailors” had arrived and we left port. The skipper and mates introduced themselves and told us the history of the ship, which was built in Maine and launched in 1924 - that much I remember. Then the skipper started talking about riggings and using charts for navigation and learning to avoid hazards. Did he mean pirates? No, but he did mention that one of the tall ships was used as the HMS Interceptor in the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Wow! The kids would love hearing that. He also said that pirates are still a threat (on the high seas – not San Francisco Bay) and that there was nothing in modern piracy that would in any way be reminiscent of the fun tricorn hats, Colonial apparel, parrots and peg legs of the Disney trilogy. So the movies were wrong!

Each of us was then assigned to a sailing station, from manning the helm (Michael) to hoisting the sail (me). Knowing a thing or two about fabric, I could see that this was some seriously heavy canvas. Hmmm. I guess the work had to be done, and it was a chance to further interact with fellow business owners. Ok, I was in. Would you believe it takes ten people to hoist the main sail? However, on this trip they had to make do with nine. That’s because I started to feel…funny. Sort of dizzy. I was sure it would pass - I just wasn’t used to hard labor. The Second Mate got me some water and I sat down and tried to enjoy watching the unfurling. It really was impressive. But my excitement about the trip was interrupted by the growing realization that all was not right in the vicinity of my stomach. I could handle this, of course. In no time I’d have my sea legs and be swilling fine wine and singing sea shanties. I would not only make important business contacts to benefit Red House in the years to come, but I would relive The Age of Sail!

Sea of Pain, Part I

Presented with the opportunity to join a group of business owners for a meet-and-greet on a sailing ship in the San Francisco Bay, what could I say but YES!!! And this would be no basic boat that we’d be going on but a 53’ wooden schooner that has spent its long life working the west coast. I can’t remember the ship’s name, Fortune Teller? Soothsayer? Aquarius? It’s one of several remaining tall ships used for fishing until steel-hulled contraptions proved more efficient. The wooden ships would probably have ended up as firewood if not for the devoted efforts of preservationists. Now they have new lives as teaching vessels, wedding venues, and in my lucky case - a social excursion similar to what was referred to on my Caribbean honeymoon as “The Booze Cruise.“

Some shopping was in order, but the two things I knew we’d be taking were my Red House Cashmere Pashmina (RH29) and the Silk Twill Jacket (RH28) for Michael. Both in black, because San Francisco is not sunny like Napa, and black is the sophisticated choice for urban denizens year-round. And we sure didn’t want to dress nautical. Don’t you love seeing the returning vacationers in airports, sporting sunburns and crumpled white resort wear? I can’t blame them for trying to stay in vacation mode, but laughing makes my business travel more tolerable.

We arrived at the pier to see a ship even more glorious than I had pictured. This really was a work of living history - lacquered wood, gleaming brass and beautiful design. A relic of The Age of Sail that I hope will endure for future generations to experience. It is wood though, and sits in the water. I wonder how long it will last?

As an added bonus we had the perfect day for a sail – smooth water, and even a little bit of sun. I wondered if I’d have to wear a blaze-orange life jacket over my carefully selected outfit, but no one else seemed to be dressed for a watery rescue. Good sign. The crew was in well-starched sailing whites (not crumpled), and the attendees were all as elegantly appointed as the ship. Oh, and the food! A well-known Napa chef had been hired to create a sumptuous seafood buffet. And the featured wines were exceptional – I saw some that I had only had occasion to taste, and now would have the chance to enjoy by the glass. This was going to be great!