It was served with the staff meal, which at the time was cooked by either Chrysa Robertson (who still owns and runs Rancho Pinot) or Chris Bianco, who worked for her at the time. I don't recall the food, but I still remember how good that wine tasted -- ethereal, refreshing, and fruity.
Even more engaging was the amalgamation of both food and wine. Peter Kasperski, owner of Cowboy Ciao and Kazimierez World Wine Bar, calls it the "third plane," where wine by itself tastes a specific way.Food by itself also taste a specific way, but the two combined are a whole new recipe and sensory experience.
I also didn't mind that wine with dinner left you with a delightfully soporific buzz.
Kasperski became an influential mentor. It was during two different tenures working for Pete both at Cowboy Ciao and briefly at (the now sadly defunct) SeaSaw, that I was exposed to the whole world of wine, and by that I mean, Pete's Bible, a.k.a. the Cowboy Ciao wine list composed of over 2,700 selections. Virgen santisima, it was daunting but also exciting. Daunting in scale but exciting in selection. Cabernet Sauvignon from China, check; Lebanese Bordeaux Blend, check; Laser-beam Pinots from New Zealand, check. Arresting Grenache from Australia, check. Enamel-ripping Petite Syrah from California, check. Focused acid-driven Riesling from Austria, check.
The list can go on and on. Let's just say that if any of you want to work in a restaurant that has the best wine selection in town, managed and owned by one of our state's most seasoned and knowledgeable self-taught wine authorities, go apply at Cowboy Ciao.
Ciao was wine boot camp.
In 2004, I moved to Napa Valley with my wife, Emily. It was dreamy there. Napa reminded me of Colombia with its abundance of flora. I fell in love with wine country. I loved going to the wineries and walking the vineyards. The pseudo-rural lifestyle resonated with my soul. I had served wines from Napa Valley before, but the only association I had was the wine label and any additional knowledge about the wine I read either on line or a wine publication. Now I was meeting the people that actually made the wine. Mike Silacci from Opus One used to come to the charming bistro Angele, where both Emily and I worked. He was classy and engaging. Heidi Barrett, a star in the wine world and partially responsible for the cult-wine craze with her Screaming Eagle sensation, was a delight to wait on; I had the privilege and honor to take care of Robert Mondavi and his family; they were quintessentially Napa, and by that I mean, their generosity of spirit. The Brown family from Brown Estate made you feel like you were royalty. (Wait, but I'm the waiter.) Tadeo Borchardt, winemaker for Neyers Vineyards, let me come to the winery on numerous occasions to hang out.
Harvest was magical. The whole valley, it seemed, was under the spell of aromas that emanated during harvest. Yes, it was crazy-busy in the valley, but also exciting.
Making wine was a collaboration of farmer, vineyard manager, winemaker. Every vintage not only told a story about the climate and how it impacted the grape, but it also told a story about the people involved. Wine was history in a bottle. Wine was life encapsulated. The bounty of a specific place on Earth. And then you get to open that wine two (or 10) years later, and you get to remember and experience that specific year, the people that surrounded you, the successes and failures. It is the conviviality that is created when you share wine with others, coupled with the history of the wine, that speaks to my soul. I find it terribly romantic.