WINE COUNTRY MY ASS...

Well, I had planned to just buckle down (up?) and hustle straight home from Quincy… but the best laid plans, eh?  I did well over the “back side” to Oroville and arrived about quarter to eight in the AM… a wee bit too early to make a stop at the Feather Falls Casino Brewery so I will save that for a later drive-by.  70 to 99 to Sacramento and I-80 west and I was skimming right along. 

But then ‘long about Vacaville the headwind suddenly got very gusty and the taillights began to multiply rapidly.  I couldn’t face a long drive through the hideous east bay concrete corridor so, spotting a sign suggesting highway 12 and Napa as an alternate, I opted for a shot across the Golden Gate and straight south to San Jose. 

Motoring along on the fringes of wine country I stopped for a highway flagger at an intersection and, while stretching my neck, my gaze fell upon those magic words, “Brewery”.  Almost without aid my trusty van wheeled right and into the parking lot of Napa Smith Brewery.

Again just a wee bit before the sun crossed the yardarm, so I had the bar to myself with the exception of the barkeep and two of the brewers on an early lunch break.  Had a nice chat with them all while sampling their current seasonal offering, a pint of Ewan Paine Scottish Ale.  I am a big fan of Scottish ales and this was an extremely good one so the time passed quickly and conversation, turning as it often does in this situation, touched on the brewer’s arts and my personal quest.  This led to a suggestion that I might want to avail myself of the offerings just up the road in Sonoma.

Now Sonoma is generally know for wines and tourists and the scant 11 miles of roadway was more than generously sprinkled with both.  The town itself is one of those classic coastal farm towns centered around a square with a park and a surround of old building facades.  

Now days, of course, the buildings have given over from hardware stores and millineries and feature an endless parade of art galleries and tasting rooms, but a short drive down a side street gets you into the “real” part of town and The Sonoma Springs Brewery.  

This is a small, no frills set-up with a Jerry Garcia look-alike brewmaster and the bar and a few two-tops cheek by jowl with the array of hoses and buckets and other stainless steel accoutrements of the zymurgist’s art. 

They don’t serve food, other than peanuts, and they didn’t open for another 20 minutes so what could I do but wander across the street to the lovely, ramshackled taqueria y tortillaria and wolf down a small plate of tacos al pastor… ummmm. 

Okay, one o’clock had come and the bar was, indeed, open for my custom. Reviewing the chalkboard I settled on a pint of Enchanted Forest Black IPA which turned out to be a lovely black lager (a perennial favorite…) nicely hopped (all through the process…) to give it the bite of a good, traditional IPA.  Once again I find that brewers are choosing to make good IPA’s instead of the kind of crap that seems to be mostly based on a dare.

Having miles to go before I was home I passed on another beer and motored my way southward.  There are still more breweries in the neighborhood but I wanted to get home and needed my wits about me to negotiate 101 through San Francisco so I will rest easy knowing that with a free weekend and a designated driver I can handily check them all off my bucket of beer list.