Critics

There is truly no better gig than working in a tasting room. It if were possible for me to afford the bloated Bay Area cost of living on those few ducats per hour – I’d make pouring wine a full-time profession. For the most part, everyone person you see or talk to is happy – either on vacation or taking a day of hedonistic pleasure. Your job? To enhance that pleasure and make sure every guest has a great experience at your winery.

True confession time. I haven’t actually poured in the tasting room for the last month or so. Instead, I’ve been working on a few marketing related issues for the winery. As summer heats up and in preparation for the Harvest, we’ve been busy redesigning the winery’s Web site and editing the copy for the bi-annual newsletter, among other things.

Beer lovers and wine novices rejoice. Billy Merritt is proof positive that anyone can learn to enjoy the art of wine. As I often love to remind people, wine is about joy, conversation, and love and is no longer the realm of stuffy sommeliers or snobby critics.

Sure, I know that I’m technically supposed to be writing about the sights, sounds and happenings of a Russian River Valley tasting room, but the way I see it, my real assignment is to simply provide good wine tales. This month, it just so happens that my most interesting wine experience occurred in an altogether different valley – the valley floor of Telluride, Colorado.

If you find yourself sitting next to your brother-in-law (let’s call him Andy) at some obligatory BBQ this summer, and he decides he wants to pick an argument, here are some of the topics he might present: The war. Gay marriage. The legitimacy of country music. Screw caps versus cork.

Anyone trying to impress with their “wine acumen” will often spout off statements like, “Ah, this was an excellent year for Cabs!” or “Egad! I refuse to order any bottle from that vintage!” But what the heck is the secret to knowing good vintages from ones to avoid?

This time of year, the weather in the Russian River Valley can only be described as perfect. Nah, that doesn’t necessarily do it justice. Ideal? Boring. Ahhhh. Epic. The weather is epic. The sun combined with the lush scenery just begs you to take your glass of Pinot Gris (or pick your favorite poison) and enjoy an outdoor picnic with your family. (Insert record needle scratch sound here.) Did he write “enjoy a picnic with your family?” At a winery?

“Tell us what we should be tasting,” asked a group of four on vacation from Ohio. (The Russian River Valley, it turns out, seems to be a popular vacation destination for Ohio residents. We get handfuls of ‘em every week.) “Well…let me ask you this: What do YOU taste?” While I am genuinely interested and curious, I also wonder - who am I to tell them what they taste? I don’t have any clue what kinds of flavors their taste buds register. For the next 10 minutes – this group of Ohioans engaged in a somewhat spirited debate about the wine.

Variety is the spice of life, they say. So to prove “them” correct, my friends and I embarked on a mysterious and giddy wine flight tasting experience at top-rated San Francisco gem, Incanto . Wine flights are a foolproof way to sample many different types of wine, compare, contrast and discover new favorites that you never would have tried on your own. And what better place to sample delectable delights than Incanto,

These days, thanks to America’s undying love of dining out, being a professional chef is sometimes akin to being a celebrity. Well, minus the money and fame, of course. When I say celebrity, I’m referring mostly to the reactions that chefs can sometimes get from other people. Even then, I’m not really talking about screaming fans or anything of that nature. It’s a very subtle thing, really, but I am still amazed by how interested some people are to meet a chef -- even an everyday chef -- like me.