Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-Three

1. But don’t really want to get up.

2. Cold toes.

3. I should probably not be cleaning but I can’t help it.

4. Early release day, but maybe they shouldn't be home early.

5. Should I be eating right now?

6. This is what happens when you move too quickly. Slow it down.

7. I place my hand on my heart and say “thank you” so many times. She has no idea how much this has made my week.

8. He says it’s cheaper than therapy, so why not?

9. But I just settled into the idea of this being it, the only place, that we were not going anywhere. And so it’s hard for me to shift gears so quickly. I try to imagine it. I can’t.

10. I wonder if it’s somehow my own fault.

Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Twenty-Four

1. Forgot to lay out my clothes.

2. Morning birdsong.

3. Out of coffee beans. I don’t want to go to the grocery store. I remember that we have the Nespresso.

4. I realize that it probably looks like I’m not paying attention but there is work for me to do.

5. No room.

6. Three kids’ PB & J, one pastrami, one salami, one turkey.

7. I still have my pants on.

8. It is only Monday, but I am already proud of what I’ve accomplished this week.

9. Impromptu dinners and impromptu sleepovers.

10. Gratitude.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty

1. Today. But tomorrow.

2. Illy in the french press. Two extra scoops just in case.

3. Count down the hours.

4. But this is what we need: community, someone who understands our perspective, someone who is willing to listen.

5. I don’t think I’m the best interviewer, but I do enjoy these conversations. I look forward to writing this. Also, I think she and I could be friends in real life.

6. Funny.

7. I look for more baby watermelons. Half-hearted hand pollination means there are two so far. I should probably give more of an effort.

8. She is the first person I’ve seen that’s not directly related to me. We stand on the sidewalk under the shade of a tree, catching up, trying to understand what’s going on. I tell her that the only place I’ve ever worn my mask is to pick up my CSA. I feel like I need to yell. All of this is so strange.

9. I listen to the song over and over again.

10. Just look at how far we’ve come.

Ten.One Thousand & Two

1. I hear him saying something quietly, and then I hear the coughing. 3:44am.

2. I close my eyes and hear the cough again and get up to get him cough medicine. I try to go back to sleep but google cough remedies and double-check COVID-19 symptoms because that is what a worrier does.

3. I close my eyes but don’t really go back to sleep.

4. So much coughing.

5. This morning, a whole family of snails. I watch the smallest one climb the stacked landscape pavers. How slowly they move.

6. It must be how I chugged that beet juice. I hope it’s just that.

7. I forgot how time-consuming this particular kind of work is.

8. I love the parts of our ride where Mt. Diablo is in view. No clouds. Not as quiet. More people out post-lunch? There are new blossoms on some of the trees. A lonely lemon in the gutter.

9. He asks me if I want the rest of the Syrah. Of course, I want the rest of it.

10. When the message gets repeated to you over and over and over again, and you realize you just gotta do it. However you can, in whatever small way you can, just do one simple thing to stay connected to it. One simple thing to move it forward.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Forty-Four

1. Wow. The roosters are really loud today.

2. I try my best to tip-toe through the room for clothes, find what I need to wash my face and put in contacts and get ready for the day.

3. I look at my watch. Oh good, Moosewood is just opening. I have her come with me to get coffee and some pastries for the others.

4. Cinnamony.

5. Baby persimmons.

6. Had I understood what everyone meant by going to the river, I would have packed appropriately. We find the rockier parts of the beach and they try to skip rocks while I watch the water run. Yes, I need to be closer to water.

7. I try to fight away the pang of pre-departure sadness.

8. Filtered or unfiltered 2015 PInot Noir? We’ll take both.

9. Suitcase rosé of Syrah while we sit in these chairs for the last pre-dinner drink. I say something about wondering if I’m naive in thinking that I really can have a life that I don’t need to vacate. That I want travelling to be about experience and exploration, not escape.

10. I could eat this plum tart for the rest of my life.

11. I sit at her table and we talk about the ills of digital connectivity, privacy in the digital age, life-altering experiences, the definition of sanity. She starts every other story by telling me that’s she’s a private person, but “I’ll tell you this.” Her eyes sparkle in the candlelight. He asks me how old I think she is, I say she’s at least 80 but maybe older.

12. Another pang of pre-departure sadness.

3 Wines to Celebrate National Chardonnay Day

I have to be honest with you. Chardonnay is not my favorite varietal. I’m quite partial to reds and when I do drink whites, I tend to look for less common wines made from grapes like Vermintino, Gattinara, or Verdichio. I’ll never turn down a bottle of aged Riesling from Alsace or Germany. And I will joyfully gulp down glass after glass of Assyrtiko. But Chardonnay? Well…

Most likely I just had too many bad experiences with Chardonnay early on in my wine-drinking career. It’s really easy to do. Chardonnay is made in so many styles that it can be hard to find one that tastes just right to you. But as I say in the tasting room, if you’ve tried 22 Chardonnays and have yet to find one you like, try drink number 23. It’s really only a matter of time before you find one you love.

So, in honor of National Chardonnay Day, here are 3 easy-drinking wines I love. Happy National Chardonnay Day! Leave a comment or email me to let me know some of your favorites.

Louis Jadot Mâcon-Villages Chardonnay AOC

While France is not exactly the birthplace of winemaking, it is from the French that we learned much of what we do know about wine thus my first recommendation is a Chardonnay from the Mâconnais region of Burgundy, the home of some of the world’s greatest examples of Chardonnay. Wines from this region may have a rounder mouthfeel compared to its friends up north in Chablis, but they will present the classic Chardonnay aromas and flavors of white flowers, apple and citrus, and the zip of minerality that I love in French whites.

Mount Eden Vineyards 

The vineyards of Mount Eden sit on a mountain top of the Santa Cruz mountains, about 15 miles inland from the Pacific Ocean. It’s the combination of the high elevation and the cooling ocean breezes that allow these grapes to ripen while also maintaining bright acidity. The use of new French oak adds hints of baking spices and stirring of the lees adds an element of creaminess, yet acidity still manages to cut through.

Wente Vineyards Eric’s Chardonnay

Yes, it’s true that I work here but I’m not being paid to mention this wine in this space (I save that for the tasting room). Wente Vineyards (the first family of Chardonnay!) makes 4 different still Chardonnays and this one happens to be my favorite. It hails from Livermore Valley, a place that most people think of as too hot to grow good grapes. However, what makes Livermore Valley different from many other Californian apellations is its east-west orientation that allows the cool breezes from the San Fransciso Bay to pull through the valley, dropping the nightly temperatures—sometimes by as much as 40 degrees. Eric’s Chardonnay is 100% stainless steel fermented which keeps the wine bright and fresh with flavors of crisp apple and pear, and a citrusy acidity.

Bonus: Wente Vineyards Brut

Yeah, yeah. Another Wente wine but I’m putting it here because

1. Who doesn’t like bubbles?

2. It’s made from 100% Chardonnay so it counts.

3. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it.

The Chardonnay grapes for this wine are grown down in the Arroyo Seco appellation in Monterey, California. This cooler Californian region is known for Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, thus making it the perfect place to source bright, fresh fruit for sparkling wine. Made in the traditional champagne method, this sparkling wine has aromas and flavors of crisp green apple and that brioche goodness that Champagne lovers adore.

What Makes a Space "Safe"?

What I wanted to talk about was the Batonnage Forum I attended this past Saturday. About how there were several panels that left me with more questions than answers, a renewed sense of spirit and community, and a reminder that none of us are having the same experience. I wanted to talk about how refreshing and inspiring it was to be at a conference with over 450 people who were genuinely interested in having difficult conversations about how we can create a more equitable culture within the wine and hospitality industry. I wanted to tell you about the all of the wonderful black women who attended the forum thanks to the scholarships provided by Julia Coney and the staff of Batonnage.

Instead, what I find myself circling back to is this idea of “safe space.” It is a phrase I myself use frequently in describing my intention for an event or gathering. When I label my retreats and workshops as a “safe space,” what I’m trying to communicate is that this is a space where your humanity is honored and cherished. That it is a place where you will be respected and listened to. That it is a place where you can be free to stumble in your words and your art. That this is a place where I am willing to be honest and vulnerable with you if you will be honest and vulnerable with me, and that my goal is to withhold judgement and shame.

And so at the start of the conference this phrase, “safe space,” was used, most likely to mean the same things I mean. Yet, I’m curious to know if it really and truly did feel safe for some of those who were in attendance. When issues of race, sexuality, and equity were brought to the table, how many felt truly safe?

For the black women in the audience who came alone, how safe did the space feel?

For the queer women who traveled alone, unsure of how many other queer women would be there, did they feel safe?

How safe did the woman who made a controversial statement about young women in tight and revealing clothing feel once she made her statement and was met with groaning disapproval?

Did any of the men in attendance feel safe at a conference that is, at its essence, challenging their status of power?

These questions are not really about the forum specifically, but about a deeper inquiry into what it means when we who organize events label a gathering as a “safe space.”

To me, feelings of safety require a certain level of intimacy with the people and the place I am in. Feelings of safety are most likely to occur when we are in true community with whom we are sharing space. In what ways is it possible to check in with folks to gauge their feelings of safety, with genuine care and without crossing boundaries, especially when the length of an event doesn’t allow for deep connection? How do we ensure that everyone does indeed feel safe? Is it even possible to make all participants feel truly safe?

Ten.Two Hundred & Forty-Four

1. Up before the light, listening to the sound of rain hitting terra cotta tiles on the patio. 

2. I go to eat breakfast by myself. Coffee, orange juice, water, a chickpea, potato and kale scramble. Quiet. I can see the vineyards in the distance, bare, wet and dripping.

3. Downtown Santa Rosa to meet Adam for coffee at Flying Goat. I almost don’t recognize him with all of the hair. We sit and talk life and photography and freelancing.  

4. Back at the ranch. So much time planning and talking and dreaming. I can’t wait to bring everyone here to sit by the pool, to warm by the fire, the drink in the sun, to make space to breathe. 

5. We get tacos with Kevin before he heads back to San Francisco to go home. He tells me to stop underpricing myself. To keep playing with one light and a subject. To live with the confidence I speak to in my writing. Grateful for mentors like this.  

6. We drive through Petaluma as we make our way toward Napa. There’s a little bar, Ernie’s Tin Bar, with cute chalkboard signs and a no cell phone policy.   

7. Green hills as far as the eye can see. Trying to keep my vision pointed on gratitude. 

8. A glass of Fumé Blanc upon arrival. There’s a new blanket at the foot of the bed.  

9. The Charter Oak. Schramsberg and a long chat with the sommelier who also happens to be from Chicago as we wait for our friends. Wood and leather and copper and vintage rugs. Embers from the open flame. A drawer at the table loaded with silverware and a napkin. Sparkling water. Musacdet. Bordeaux blend. Mushrooms and salads and kohlrabi and duck and burgers.   

10. Gratitude for this. For time spent in meaningful conversations. For good coffee and good wine and good food. For the privilege of comfort. For space. For beauty. 

Collecting Beauty in Wine Country

I don't want to claim the title "Lifestyle Blogger." It doesn't feel natural on my tongue. Instead, I'm going to call myself a "Collector of Beauty." Yes. A Collector of Beauty. This rephrasing gives me the space to do what I do best which is notice. Really, isn't that what a writer and a photographer should be doing? Noticing?

There's this really fine and faint line between capturing life and noticing it. One can become so consumed with trying to find what they should capture that they miss the real beauty of what's occurring around them. It's why I rarely photography my food before eating it. I want to eat my gnocchi with black truffle shavings while it's still hot. And I want to drink my rosé while it still has its chill. Instead of trying to find the highlights and shadows in the barrel room, I want to listen to her tell me about the fermentation experiments she's conducting. And when I meet her for coffee on Washington Street, instead of thinking about the Instagram-worthiness of the courtyard, I'd rather listen to her tell me about the one time the police got called while she was celebrating her birthday.

Ultimately, I do believe that it's my desire to be so fully present in my life that gives me the ability to see the truly extraordinary moments that exist in the every day. I have to somehow trust that the most important moments will find their way into the little crevices of memory for when I need them most. Because this life is really too good and too big for the viewfinder.

Alas, here are some of the moments that I collected during my most recent trip to Yountville in August.

The North Block Hotel sits at one end of Washington Street in Yountville. Spanish tiles line the staircases and the doors are wooden and heavy and it's so quiet. It's become my favorite little retreat.

Redd Wood is known for its wood-fired pizzas but I love the simple breakfast served here each morning for the guests at North Block. Coffee and pastries from Bouchon Bistro are the perfect start to an early morning, but the granola is killer. I'm still trying to get my hands on a recipe.

Isn't this vintage truck just the coolest? Hunter Gatherer is new boutique in Yountville. 

After seeing people line up each night before it opened, we decided to give Ciccio's a chance. It's Napa Valley so of course there's great wine, but the cocktails and pizza can't be beat. Cool vibe. It's where the locals go (which is always a good sign). 

I could spend all day sitting in front of The French Laundry Culinary Gardens. 

It had been awhile since I'd been in wine country in the summer when everything is green and ripening. It was such a treat to be able to touch and taste the fruit. The rolling hills of B.R. Cohn in Sonoma are so beautiful this time of year. Really, any time of year. 

Ten.Forty-Seven

1. He snuck into the bed sometime in the morning but before the first light. The babies are always babies.

2. Dreams of frogs all over the house.  

3. Wash face. Brush teeth. Get dressed. Make the lunches and the snacks. Figure out which muffins to make. Back to school.  

4. The backs of my eyes are stinging with tears again.  

5. I am tired. I know it's the kind of tired you feel from stress. 

6. It's so humid.  

7. No one seemed to be happy when I picked them up from school. Maybe I'm projecting.  

8. The backs of my eyes are stinging with tears again.  

9. I yell at him about the laundry. I want to snap the stems with my thumbs. I can't see anything but white.  

10. How he talks me down and away from the rage and honors the truth that this is all fear. That this is what you should feel when people want to kill you.  

Ten.Thirty-Nine

1. Waking up with the moon.

2. The bathroom tiles glow from the light. It's so quiet. These are always the quietest hours. I love the times when I'm the only one awake.

3. Pants and shirt and jacket. Don't forget the pin. The babysitter will be here in 5 minutes. She is always early.

4. Quickly to the store first. I need something to eat before I drink the coffee. We try to use the 1-hour and 29-minute ride into the city to review, but sit mostly in silence. You realize that you know all you can know at this moment and there's no use stressing yourself trying to add in just one more thing.

5. What I miss most about my old town is how much I walked to everything. This is what I like about city living: the fresh air, the movement of your body, the sites, and the sounds. And all that brick.

6. The four of them seem nice and friendly. The first two parts of the test are done. I feel much more relieved. Like, maybe this will happen after all.

7. Nothing I eat is staying in my body. I've had a headache since this morning. My stomach keeps cramping. I'm sweaty. It's mostly nerves, I'm sure. But I leave the service portion of the exam knowing that I drowned in those last 16 minutes.

8. I eat some croquettes, drink Pinot Grigio from Mt. Etna, and then top it off with a cone of caramel ice cream and a bombolini from Bombobar. Try to sip on an iced-coffee to soothe the headache.

9. He passes and I fail. Only 6 out of 18 passed. I am one of the 12 that did not. But I am a strong candidate. Each one of the Masters tell me to do it again. They are always so encouraging. I will try to take it again before the end of the year.

10. You can tell fall is coming by the quality of the light. It's taken on this honeyed hue in the late evening. 

Ten.Twenty-One

1. Dark skies make it hard to wake.

2. Black dress. 

3. 10 years. How quickly the time passes. I can believe it but I can't. 

4. Sets of espresso and cappuccino cups. Indigo ceramics. In this life, I'm determined to find ways to make the ordinary more magical. This is what I live for.

5. I also live for sunrises, sunsets, moody skies, linen, cotton, fresh flowers, dried eucalyptus, their smiles, a firm hand on the small of my back, hot coffee, good wine, the goat cheese croquettes from Barn Diva.

6. Silence.

7. Abundance. Community. Creativity. Curiosity. Inspiration. Grace. Gratitude.

8. Hibiscus flower. It's been imported from Australia and soaked in its own nectar and some sugar. It is delicate and delicious and sweet. 

9. Bison hanger steak with pork cheek angnolotti, charred ramp butter, caramelized carrot puree, fresh peas, pickled garlic scape, and tangy veal jus. 2010 Chateau La Garde Pessac-Leognan. 

10. Don P.X. Gran Reserva. 1986. My first sherry. I am in love.

The Thin Place

“ In thin places, we become our more essential selves.”

— Eric Weiner

I don't always do a good job of explaining why I've become so attached to northern California. I mean, it's beautiful. Beyond beautiful, really. The air is clean and fresh. The color of the tomatoes brings tears to my eyes. I remember the one time, while walking down the street in St. Helena, how an orange rolled under the car. And I remember the way the soles of my converse conversed with the fallen olives, soft and hard.

California is where everything within me stills and the only voice I can here is my own. The only breath I'm aware of is my own. There is space for me there. Perhaps it's because I spend most of my time in the shadow of the mountains, deep in the valley, in awe of the way the sun rises and sets against the mountain peaks.

And so I share with you just a few of my moments from this past March, when the air was both warm and cool and the wild mustard bent in the breeze.