7 minutes (or 2 weeks) in Heaven (Part 3)

Our heroes awake after a long journey through Napa…

…

Alas, dawn did arrive, greeting us, and instilling us with the cottony maw usually reserved for the clouds. It was deemed a day of rest from our travels, and thus we spent it relaxing and exploring the area around inn at which we stayed.

That evening however, there was need to discover. A tip from a fellow traveler told us of a place not to be missed: K&L Bistro. Apparently they could do things with nominal foodstuffs that were illegal in other territories. Thus we gathered and set forth, this time equipping ourselves with a Garmin star-chart, would that we not get lost in the unfamiliar channels.

Indeed a throng of meats and vegetation were thrust upon us, most notably for myself the belly of the boar.

The belly of the beast

Nothing quite like this exquisite combination of melty fat and crispy meat mixed with the odd round lentil (so they called it) had I ever consumed, and will ever consume.  Twice did I see the great light burst forth to collect me to the heavens, only to be revived by sips of red wine to allow the blood to again course through my veins.

Other of the crew, much wiser than myself had the pasta.

Far less cardiac arrest

Alas, again the day would end too soon, but rested from a smaller amount of exploration, we were able to set off anew the next morning. Or, we would have, if that obnoxious game would not again have commenced at the inn.

Traveled we did to an area that looked surprisingly familiar, as if the villas of the Mediterranean had been scooped up and dropped in front of us.

IT'S A TRAP

We felt almost at home for a time, as they explained the intracacies of moving this:

I heard it through the grapevine

To this:

Double, double, toil and trouble

And finally to this:

Roll out the barrel

From which essentially we would consume.

Ferrari-Carano it was named. They informed us their product could be found throughout the world on the shelf of any goods purveyor, unlike many of the places we visited before.

The sun soon dwelled high in the sky, informing us that it was time again to find sustenance, although for myself, the boar still sat quite heavily in my gut. No matter, there would be no whining.

We happened upon a town square which housed several dining establishments, but the crew’s choice was Bistro Ralph.

Our potato runneth over

A tiny, white-brick-walled French-styled establishment with a long bar and few tables, it was again a place of the locals: most everyone who walked in and out would find someone they knew, and discuss daily matters over a small glass of wine. No matter to us, as not being locals, we were embraced as visitors but left to our own devices.

Soon after we were again thirsty, and found respite.

Casual enjoyment

Here, the beverage was only served, but we were assured that facilities for crushing and fermenting (new activities we had recently learned about) were elsewhere and could be visited. But not today. No matter, for all we wished was a few minutes to sit outside and relax before our grueling journey continued.

Not much farther was another stop, a place known as Williams Selyem.

Tie a yellow ribbon...

They were again happy to pour, discuss and indulge us weary travelers. It seemed to be a pattern with the multitude of places visited. Why they were so eager to welcome us still is a bit of a mystery. However, it could be due to the rather large amounts of this ruby liquid we purchased to bring home to our friends and family.

Another evening would pass, complete with yet another tournament; the sirens of the table called yet again. Alas, this would be one aspect of the journey remains questionable.

…

Surviving the sojurn through Sonoma, where will our heroes travel next? Don’t change that address bar!