Looking for Annette

Why does the Napa Valley Wine Auction have to take place during my busiest time of year?! I am kicking myself because I haven’t found my place in that tornado of fun and business opportunity. This is THE event of the year here, and it supports critical Napa Valley charities, including Clinic Ole´ (clinicole.org), which serves our latino and other farming families with free or reduced cost health and dental care. The need for this clinic cannot be underestimated. The wine auction has raised more than $78 million dollars to date for the clinic and other local charities, including $10.35 million this year alone. Bravo! Another great reason to love Napa!

I do have an ulterior motive for wanting to be involved of course, as there are many opportunities for Red House apparel to be worn by event staff and volunteers. Everyone from catering people to auction runners would look professional and stylish in Red House polos. I’m thinking the Pima Tonal Stripe Polo (RH07) in coral for the men and the Double-Mercerized Polo (RH05) in turquoise for the women. Auction runners in particular really need to stand out so the auctioneer doesn’t miss calling any bids. It would be such excellent publicity for us to see those shirts literally running around, as the event is attended by so many business owners, growers, local and even not-so-local dignitaries.

Oprah herself recently attended a dinner hosted by Rich Frank in the historic barrel room at Frank Family Vineyards after a cask auction event, which was part of the larger party. Hmmm… I don’t think my house could hold a dinner party large enough to consume an entire cask, but it would be fun to try! I read that the 2004 Frank Family Cabernet won Best Cab AND Best of Class at the Los Angeles International Wine & Spirits Competition. No surprise there. The awards keep coming in for that wine and their 2006 Napa chardonnay too. Oh, and Frank Family wines were served at a dinner held by The American Film Institute honoring Warren Beatty for his lifetime of achievements. I wasn’t invited, but I sure would like to meet Annette Bening.

I’ve mentioned that Frank Family Vineyards is one of my favorites, and now they’re even more beloved. Would you believe that their “Lot 14” brought in a mind-boggling $480,000?! Auction items I bid on tend to be picnic baskets with a bottle of wine and maybe a cheese board, the occasional spa package, and once, a kids’ birthday party with clowns. But Lot 14, my friends, included a private dinner to be created by Mario Batali, a luxurious wine-tasting trip to New Zealand, a walk-on role in Grey’s Anatomy, as well as tickets to the exclusive AFI dinner. All this, plus some Frank wines for the cellar. Had I been able to attend the auction (and had $480,000 in my beaded evening bag) I would’ve had the chance to meet Annette Bening!

Next year I’ll have it all figured out. And I’m starting a bidding fund. I mean, the kids won’t need college money for years!

The Open Robe

The constant travel necessary to meet with vendors and manufacturers to finalize all the details for fall has made me TENSE. And not the kind of tense that goes away after a hot bath back home, even if “Towel Boy” Michael is there for…assistance. (!?) No, at this point I needed a real massage and for that, I learned I need Evelyn. And anyway, it was time for a spa retreat for the hardworking women of Red House. That would be Kerin and myself. So, with female bonding and off-site office problem-solving in mind we set off to try a new spa, Raindance, located at The Lodge at Sonoma, a Renaissance Resort about a mile from the square in Sonoma. It’s not over-the-top like the Fairmont or Auberge properties but it has a full-service menu and fluffy robes, so no complaint here. The first thing we noticed were the roses: they were everywhere on the hotel grounds. I hope I never get so jaded by life here that I fail to notice how much blooms here, and pretty much year-round.

We started the morning with a pedicure. A glass of wine was offered. Why not? It was 10:00! I thought about choosing one of the wilder nail colors. There was even black, which made me think of Natalie, who would be here if she were not the former first intern of Red House. Kerin chose a pale blue and I went with what appeared to be strawberry yogurt with a bit of sparkle to it. We then took a break (!) by the spa pools and used our cell phones to take and send pictures of our feet to our husband/boyfriend. We relaxed in the shade of a cabana. I had brought a small cooler, from which we mixed mimosas in pool-safe plastic flutes. And yes, I remember that alcohol is frowned upon as not conducive to the spa experience but we were not the only ones who brought in a cooler…

We spent a fun hour just talking and laughing - though not as loudly as the women in the adjacent cabana. I learned that Kerin has aspirations beyond answering the phones at Red House and checking dye lots. This is good to know, as there will be opportunity for her to expand. I’ve already started delegating more to her (a trick I learned from the How to Succeed…and Have a Life! book I told you about). We talked about her boyfriend and how Natalie’s amorous overtures nearly derailed their relationship. I had thought it was just the typical flirtation of a bored 19 year old but apparently it went quite a bit farther. Oh boy.

Next, we headed up to the aptly named Relaxation Room. This is where you wait in your fluffy robe to be called for your massage. There are health-related magazines, herb tea, aromatherapy candles and new age music. The recorded wind chimes can be annoying, and the sounds of waves lapping the shore were just phony. I mean, we are 40 miles from the beach! The lights were low but not low enough, however, to obscure some details now forever etched into my brainpan. A man awaiting his own massage was oblivious of others in the room. Well, I hope oblivious is the right word. Let’s just say he was sprawled on a settee with an unlit cigar in his mouth, and that that wasn’t the only visible accessory. Maybe he was so relaxed that his robe accidentally came undone, or he felt constrained by the robe and loosened it. OR, he liked the uncovered look and wanted to share his…enthusiasm!! Worst of all (in my way of thinking) Kerin missed it! Unlike me, she was not facing him and was intently reading an article on yoga. I tried to get her attention, but in doing so startled the man, causing him to shift position and cross his legs without some much as looking up from his Cigar Aficionado magazine. (The spa subscribes to that?) Why am I always the one to see…things?!

Evelyn called me in. She noticed that I was especially tense, but I mentioned only my horrendous travel schedule. And you know what? She was so good that after a few minutes I wasn’t even hearing the irritating wind chimes and waves anymore. By the time she was done I felt as if all my bones had dissolved. That is what a massage is all about. I’ll be back, but first I have to tell everyone I know about the man almost wearing the robe.

Bright Lights, Big City, Bigger Headache

The city that never sleeps is also the city that never calms down. If I ever questioned my choice to leave behind the familiar and supercharged world of NY design, I got a good reminder this trip. I AM SO DONE WITH THIS! Some people here would not even get it if I explained how a viable clothing business could be launched from Napa. Others are seeking exit, or would be amenable to the right escape plan. I am already keeping an eye out for talented seekers-of-a-life-beyond-all-this as potential Red House employees, should we expand in the near future. Might as well multi-task as I suffer my relapse into the cutthroat world!

What really annoys me is that NY’ers make things harder than they need to be simply because that’s how business is done here. For example, thread. A simple item, but a necessary one in the clothing business. I met with several distributors this trip to compare product – the color options, sizes, finishes, general quality and tensile strength - and importantly, to find out for myself what the customer service philosophy was. And you know what? None of them were in any way helpful or friendly or interested in the end-use of their product at Red House. And just getting a commitment on shipping dates that would work with our manufacturing schedule involves hair-pulling. I got to the point that I was ready to stop with my hair and start on the locks of Ms. X and Mr. Y! Nice-for-the-sake-of-nice is a concept that has yet to be embraced here. Hey, I just got an idea for a side business to embark on in my spare time (!): Maddie’s Napa Valley Happy Weekends - Seminars for the Reeducation of Angry Urban Apparel Business Professionals. It would be one of those intense brainwashing events. No Blackberries. No cell phones. And I wouldn’t let them go to the restrooms until they said something kind or helpful, or at least held an elevator door for someone. My fantasy!

Drawn by nostalgia, and because I had very little time to spare, I made a lunch stop at Gray’s Papaya for a hot dog with kraut and a faux piña colada. It’s a grab-and-go spot that’s been popular forever, mainly because it’s cheap. But the people-watching is good too. Restaurant workers, club-hoppers, assorted bus terminal patrons and other sort-of scary NYC people are in and out all night long. As students, Michael and I had many dinner dates/lessons in sociology here. I’m not recommending it exactly, but it’s fast fuel, so store that info in a back corner of your brain for the next time you are in NY and can’t get reservations at Per Se.

I made a last stop – back to Coach, for a pair of orange thong sandals with a flower on top. These are not NY footwear and I’ll wear them all summer. And if I had to justify additional shopping I’d say I needed to be sure I wouldn’t have to resort to the mint slippers to get home – like if I ended up leaving my other sandals in the cab or something. That does that sound logical, doesn’t it Michael?

Shoeless at 32,000 feet

The Natalie News: Well, she did it – got the tattoo! She and Stefan went into SF to meet with a concert promoter for their Skynyrd in the Vineyard idea, which surprised me, as it was their logical next step. There is apparently some interest and the pair was thrilled. They enjoyed testing the limits of the motorcycle’s brakes on the harrowing streets and bridges and finished out their day with pizza in the North Beach, and went from there to the establishment Nat heard about while on work detail. To show their great affection for each other, she and Stefan combined their names and now sport matching upper arm ornamentation: NASTE. Cute, huh? Do you think Michael and I should come up with something? Lots of possibilities with Mad, don’t you think? Uh, no.

This is the busiest time of year for me. I have a year’s worth of responsibilities to deal with right now. Quantities for next year - my toughest decisions! Colors, labels, buttons, taping and zipper pulls all have to be chosen and ordered too. And I’m happy to tell you I’ll be introducing two new styles this fall – more on that later!

The necessary travel is driving me nuts right now. Here’s a perfect example of a brain stretched too far. Last week I had to fly to New York. I was bleary that Tuesday morning, unprepared for consciousness, leaving the house before dark, laden with cases of stylebooks. I stepped out of the car at the short-term parking lot at SFO to find that I was still wearing my slippers! And not the kind of slippers that teen girls often wear to school and the mall. These were mint green scuffs, shearling-lined and with a dollop of dried pancake batter on the left instep. Yuck. The shoes I intended to wear had been smartly (ha) placed by the door to the garage. I couldn’t miss them, and yet I had. This was a 1.5-day trip and I hadn’t packed any other shoes. There are many shops at the airport, but none of them shoe shops. I would’ve settled for some touristy flip-flops adorned with little plastic sourdough baguettes. You can get the bread at the airport, but not the shoes. So it was off to NY, my city of origin, dressed in my sleek Jil Sander pantsuit and feet that said I’d just escaped from a hospital. One of the TSA staffers commented on how comfortable it must be to travel in slippers. (If she only knew my humiliation!) My only personal luggage was my never-leave-home-without-it Redhouse Microtwill/Leather tote (RH33), which held only my overnight essentials, my pashmina (RH29) and the qt.-size Ziploc of travel liquids. And snacks. There was still plenty of room in that bag for a pair of shoes, and I don’t think I’ll make that mistake again. I was pretty comfortable on the plane, though. Once in NY, I had the driver wait outside the Coach store on Madison Ave. while I dashed in for some appropriate footwear. If you consider 3” heel sandals with gold chains appropriate. I literally stepped into my New York persona. I was ready for business - with an edge, if necessary.

The Lunch of a Lifetime, Part Four

The French Laundry really is a Fantasyland for foodies. Valhalla, without the bland Northern food. And yet it was quintessentially real. Too multi-sensorial to have been a dream. I WAS THERE! REALLY!

I said that Thomas Keller had devised some signature dishes with a sense of good old American fun. Would you believe Mac n’ Cheese? I can only imagine, as it wasn’t served the day we were there. There’s also Coffee & Doughnuts and one I’m very curious about: Yabba-Dabba-Doo. What?! I can’t wait for Gilligan’s Island. Ok, I’ve got one for them: Remember Ants on a Log? How about black truffle bits on fennel bulb purée in an endive log. Think they’d go for that? Maybe not, but I might – for a summer party. French Laundry also has an “amuse bouche” that was proffered with humor and seemed like it could possibly be recreated by ordinary mortals - an ice cream cone of salmon tartar and crème fraiche in a black sesame cone. Quirky yes, but it was delectable and fun! I don’t know about making the cone though.

I badly wanted to take pictures of everything to share with you, but I live in Napa and want to come back to the French Laundry. I couldn’t risk ending up blacklisted. I hope you understand. But I did pick up a few tidbits of gossip. The “Top Model” woman, Tyra Banks comes in several times a year. And a U.S. President has eaten there, but which one? I’m guessing it was Bill Clinton and that given his propensity for gastronomic excess he opted for both tasting menus concurrently. I also heard that FL keeps a big book of illustrious clients. Wouldn’t it be fun to have a peek at that? I knew better than to ask. I also learned that as I suspected, the wait staff are not regular humans. This is typical in California: “Hi, I’m Amber and I’ll be your server today, enjoy your meal!” And 20 minutes later, “Are you still working on that?” Ugh. Amber will not be found at the French Laundry. Service must be seamless, like a ballet. And in fact, servers are trained by a choreographer. Wow. And a great résumé won’t necessarily get you in. There’s a “je ne sais quoi” that Keller and company know when they see. So much for my chances. The chronically impatient need not apply.

The longest lunch I’ve ever had was over far too soon. Our server offered to take us through the kitchen, perhaps to make sure we would actually leave the premises. I had read that Chef Keller deemed his kitchen a “mistake-free zone”. And I have to say it did look flawless. You won’t see Anthony Bourdain whipping up a beurre blanc with cigarette in hand here. As the hour was pre-Saturday night dinner, the staff was enjoying their own repast, a beautiful paella that I’d be happy to eat every night of the week. They were relaxed and laughing, a truly convivial group, a family, even - content with having found their Nirvana in Napa. For a moment, I wished I had what it took to join them. At least long enough to read the client roster.

The Lunch of a Lifetime, Part Three

Ok, I’ve told you about the staff, the flowers, the setting – all sublime, but just maybe you’d like me to get to the food and wine. Bear in mind though, the whole mis en scene they create at French Laundry unfolds slowly and deliberately, and one is meant to savor each aspect like, well, the French themselves do. All senses are engaged, and that includes the sense of patience - the lack of which for once did not get the better of me. F.L. is not the place if you have an hour to eat and get out.

Our server was (I kid you not) a dead ringer for actress Charlize Theron. Fresh-scrubbed and beautiful, with a psychology degree she “uses daily (!).” She welcomed us with champagne (the perfect start to any celebration!) and the menu. Choosing is pretty simple. The Chef’s Tasting Menu consists of nine courses, and there is a vegetable-only option. Michael and I both elected to do the carnivore tour, though everything on the vegetable tasting sounded divine too, even if I didn’t know what a “pickled ramp bulb” was. I was told that the menu changes daily, though certain signature dishes will reappear. (As if I needed a reason to return.)

The sommelier was summoned to advise us on wine choices. He was, let’s just say, devoutly French, brisk and professional. If I had briefly entertained the notion of looking into the possibility of Red House apparel for the staff I quickly changed my mind when I saw the sommelier, whose “costume” appeared to be couture. Perhaps hand-sewn by Karl Lagerfeld himself. Whoa. We also deferred to this elegant man’s vast and global knowledge of wines and selected the pairing menu. Interestingly, there was not a Napa wine amongst the nine featured, though there was representation from Sonoma, Santa Cruz and Santa Ynez - appellations I have almost no familiarity with. And this is good! The day was about stepping out of the box and giving ourselves over to people who can teach us something, while of course, enjoying the extraordinary outcome of their education.

Now you might think nine courses is a King Henry VIII kind of meal. You would be wrong. “Tasting,” means just that. And did we each drink nine different glasses of wine in the middle of the day? Mais non! More like 1/3 glass per course. Some were so delectable that more - a lot more - would have been nice to savor. Maybe out in the garden after lunch? Alas, they think three hours is plenty of “experience” and do not currently offer a “lingering lunch plan” for would-be hangers-on like me.

Now pay attention - if you read nothing else today, or maybe all week: here is a morsel of knowledge I found to be worth the price of admission: I now know a wine that can be successfully paired with asparagus! Until now, I thought this an impossibility, but the proof is in the pudding: Our Salad of White Asparagus and Brooks Cherries was expertly paired with an Austrian wine (write this down:) Schloss Gobelsburg, Gruner Veltliner, “Steinsetz,” Kamptal. I have already sourced this from a distributor, expecting it to cost a fortune, but was pleasantly surprised and so ordered a case for asparagus season. I plan to impress at dinner parties alllll summer. Not with that salad though.

Next time, I will conclude this very long and fabulous experience. Hint: we end up in the kitchen! Was the credit card refused? You’ll have to wait and see.

The Lunch of a Lifetime, Part Two

From the moment you pass through the garden and enter the painted door of the French Laundry, there is a hush, as if you are in a very holy place. There is an expectation that a choir of angels might sing thee to thy table. But first comes the brief detainment in the anteroom, which feels vaguely like a funeral parlor. Perhaps it’s the presence of the biggest vase of flowers I have ever seen in my life. Easily half the size of the room. So I start to worry, am I worthy of this great opportunity? Or will I be given a plate of jalapeño poppers and shown the door? The grave Maitre d’/Funeral Director carefully researches what could be a tenuous claim to a reservation. He has seen the pretenders, “Are you sure you have no record of us?!,” they must plead. Maitre d’ and his assistants must sense my apprehension and deep-seated fear. Wait a minute - I’m from New York! – I can handle the pretentious staff member or two. Yet they are anything but surly. Just really, really smart. Rocket science-smart. And hip - seriously so. I am humbled. Strikingly good-looking and flawlessly attired, they are also warm, as if they are welcoming us to their home. I’m guessing this is home to them, their own Nirvana. A near-perfect world.

Michael convinced the Gatekeeper of Great Cuisine that he had made our anniversary reservation before we were even married (!) but these are not people you joke around with. Anyway, it’s an amazing 10 years today. THANK YOU, MICHAEL, for everything, especially putting up with my quirkiness. (How come you don’t have any quirks? I’m going to look into that…) But back to lunch. We are led to the dining rooms, which are anything but funereal. The bouquets are smaller, and the hush is gone – now that the guests have gotten this far there is great relief. The tables are beautifully set with carefully pressed and starched white linens. (The ghosts of the laundry at work?) There is even a wooden clothespin attached to the napkin. The French Laundry’s phone number is on it. I get the sense that now, right now, would be a good time to call to reserve next year’s anniversary lunch.

Next up: food and drink – bring it on!

The Lunch of a Lifetime, Part One

No discussion of wine country is complete without mention of the French Laundry, the ne plus ultra of dining experiences created by exalted chef Thomas Keller. He is perhaps America’s best - and we’ve got him right here in Yountville. But just try getting into the place! It takes patience. Not to mention more money than should be spent outside of Harry Winston. Is it that good? One of those things you should have on your list of things to do before you die, like climbing Mt. Everest? I don’t like snow or altitude so there’s an easy answer: I’d cross everything else off the list to eat there once a week. It’s that good. And I’m going to tell you about it.

The French Laundry (www.frenchlaundry.com) really was at one time a French steam-washing establishment. This makes me think of expertise with red wine stain removal and the spritzing of fine linens with lavender water. It was also a brothel, not that these are mutually exclusive… Before it was either of those businesses it was a saloon in the 1880’s, which is why the structure looks like a set from Deadwood. Then, for about 20 years it operated as a restaurant. It was named, not surprisingly, The French Laundry, and I haven’t yet met a single person who ate there. In 1994, Thomas Keller raised the money to buy it, though this, his first restaurant had a bit of a rocky start. Ghosts of the brothel wreaking havoc, perhaps? Letting T.K. known they liked the previous owners? It got better, a lot better. That’s how it is with successful restaurants, and this one really pushes the boundaries of experiential dining into the spiritual dimension. It is unforgettable.

Thomas Keller is a son of California who lived and worked elsewhere. This is a good thing, as otherwise, the French Laundry might be just another of our ubiquitous wood-fired pizza emporia. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) Clearly, his geographic and culinary adventures were transcendent because he came to a very different place, philosophically. In an interview I read, he says that in buying this restaurant he just wanted to create good French Country cooking. Seriously good food, but also fun. Fun? Like balloons and streamers-fun? Waiters in clown suits-fun? Hmmm…What exactly does mean he mean by that? Check in soon to find out. Meanwhile, make your reservation.

Hot water

The Natalie News. Get this – Nat and Stefan have this idea for a concert at his family’s winery. They think they are going to get Lynyrd Skynyrd to perform. They’re calling it Skynyrd in the Vineyard! Now, aside from the fact that I think this band of Southern rockers perished in a fiery plane crash decades ago, why, assuming they are living, would they want to come to Napa - is there a fan base here? Nat and Stefan are hardly concert promoters. There are marketing considerations, tickets to sell, security to hire, a hundred permits, miles of electrical cables and who knows what else. Oh, shirts. They’d like Red House polos for the staff. And they want to start working on the design for these NOW. Well, it will be interesting to see what comes of this. It would be a first for Red House, and not necessarily in a good way. Well, there’s always something interesting to talk about with my niece at the dinner table!

We did a little family outing last weekend to Calistoga. Call it “Yellowstone Light”. No grizzly bears, bison or wolves but there is The Old Faithful Geyser of California and it’s right off Highway 128. (www.oldfaithfulgeyser.com) Someone had told me that Sonoma County’s Geyserville has the largest geothermal area on earth and that seemed like something the kids should know about. You enter through a really tacky gift shop, a relic of the “70’s road trips I took with my parents. Once in the vicinity of the geyser it felt like we had stepped back even further in time, to when dinosaurs roamed the earth. As there are no dinosaurs available, there are instead pens of sheep and llamas to connect you with earlier epochs. (A reach.) Actually, I think the critters are there to entertain kids between blowings, as the geyser is not constantly spewing hot, putrid water. In fact, you wait about 35 minutes to see an eruption of 350-degree water shoot straight up maybe 60 feet for four or five minutes. This is preceded by some gurgling, bubbling up and steam, but it’s not something a five and eight year old want to stand around looking at. (Note to parents: bring quarters for the animal chow pellet dispenser.) We packed a picnic but ended up packing it out because while the setting was fun and educational, it smelled like a combination of petting zoo and the forgotten Easter egg I found just last week in the garage. With a last whiff of hydrogen sulfide and goat pen, we left to eat on the grounds of Cuvaison Winery (www.cuvaison. com). And taste: they just introduced the 2004 Brandlin Cabernet Sauvignon and its big, bold spice will make you think of winters by the fire. As it was over 100 degrees today I preferred the summery 2007 Sauvignon Blanc. Cheers!

The Truth About Teal

I helped chaperone Delia’s class trip to a very special campus,Guide Dogs for the Blind in San Rafael. (www.guidedogs.com) The kids, and lots of the adults too, were thrilled to see dozens of darling puppies. Though exceedingly soft, these are no ordinary dogs. Each is in training to become a lifelong assistance dog for a blind person. When they are ready, they are matched with the future owner, who stays at the school for hands-on learning. There’s no cost to the person receiving the dog, and the only requirement is that the recipient be able to take good care of the dog. We toured the dorm, a very pleasant place with vases of fragrant flowers and, we were told, excellent food. The designer in me wondered why the common areas were decorated in a 1980’s teal, so the never-shy Maddie decided to ask. Well, turns out that when a person is losing vision, teal is the last color they are able to see. Wow! I’ll always remember that. I learned some other things too. The dogs we saw were retrievers and golden or black labs, and a few German Shepards. Why no brown labs? They are goofy and untrainable! I can’t wait to tell our friends who just got a brown lab puppy. Good luck with that, James and Katherine! And, importantly, we learned to always ask permission before petting a guide dog. Even though they look like pets, they are on the job. I’ll definitely come back with Andrew when he’s old enough to visit.

Speaking of teal, or what I call “conflagrant turquoise,” I got a country club client to make a big change and by doing so, made many groundskeepers and restaurant staff very happy. It started with another golf event. (This one without a driving incident, thank you very much!) As I am easily distracted, my focus was impeded by spots of day-glo teal on the fairway, near the ponds, in the woods – everywhere! It was annoying, and I’m sure it was the reason for my poor score. Later, over lunch, more of the teal targets darted around the dining room. I couldn’t take it! I decided to gauge employee discontent by commenting to several of the staff on “how easy they were to see.” I learned that they hated the shirts as much as I did. The next day, I called and set up a meeting with the General Manager. It helped that I had just golfed there and had wonderful things to say about the course and the well-crafted Bloody Marys. I had samples, and I had the well being of his employees (in mind). The teal story came as no surprise. The company he had contracted with had wanted to move that color (which it had stocked since the “80’s?!) OUT, so the club got a deal they couldn’t refuse. I shared the Red House philosophy, and the G.M. agreed that a sophisticated elegance was the look the country club wanted to encourage. You should have seen the glee on the workers faces when I delivered the shirts – Double Mercerized Polos (RH04 – Men’s; and RH05 - Women’s.) The groundskeepers, kitchen and bar employees now wear universally flattering shades: Shell for the women, and Sand for the men. I gave the manager a follow-up call a few days later, and he said they were very happy with their Red House shirts, though a few members complained that it’s harder to identify the staff. Well, I can’t please everyone, but I did please many!