Steele & Sausalito

Do you know the "not-beforer's?" The "not before" I've put in the time, "not before" I've worked this much, "not before" I've earned, "not before" we've accomplished? I've spent time with them; I've honored them, but rarely I've inhabited the thought; perhaps it is the only thing that grounds me in the present. If there's one thing I know - I will let joy dance with responsibility and know that one may lead, but there's always the two. So, to find a partner who balances joy with responsibility and work with play is prodigious. And thus, we say Yes.

Remember Jed Steele? For falling in love with him and his wine, and for sharing this love with the people, Red was gifted an all-inclusive trip to San Francisco, to stay in Jed's home in Sausalito, catch the Giants vs. Diamondbacks at AT&T Park, and to see Steele's vineyards in Kelseyville, Ca, upon which I was also gifted. We flew in thursday night, picked up a rental car and drove into Fort Baker for a late dinner at Farley Bar at Cavallo Point, sitting on the front veranda, facing the golden gate's red haunt against a black sky. The wine list like bible profited us a 2002 Movia Brut Rose from Slovenia, a wine that moved organic before becoming fully biodynamic, racked by hand at the new moon, aged in Slovenian oak casks, aged on the lees & made by Ales Kristancic who is known to make "some of the strangest and most beautiful wines on the planet. From his undisgorged sparkling wine called Puro that requires underwater opening to remove the plug of yeast from the bottle; to the otherworldly rendition of the indigenous Ribolla Gialla grape in his lunar bottling; to the near sacrilegious blending of Cabernet, Merlot and Pinto Noir in the Veliko Rosso; Movio operates only according to the rules inside Kristancic's head." And indeed our undisgorged Movio Puro Brut Rose, pale salmon in color, smelling of homemade apple cider and jasmine on the breeze, yeasty as it was, was held so softly from the server & set aside in it's seat of ice like a guest. Sharing oysters, duck mole, quinoa-crusted mac&cheese, and a patch sandwich (burrata, small tomatoes, full belly farm melon & arugula on ciabatta). Arriving at our digs in Sausalito, that northern end nostalgia and the perfect amount of quiet, 3-floors high, so many beds, a portrait of Oscar Wilde & a bowlful of Giant's tickets. Falling asleep beneath the crisp, white linens and woke to the twittering of far off boats and off-distant hill homes, a picture from the window.

Red made coffee sprinkled in cinnamon & I layed in bed long, reading Atwood's, Alias Grace, which I'm obsessed with, before heading out with no plan & 20 miles to run. Incredibly, a 1/2 mi from our stay in Sausalito was an entrance into the Marin Headlands, which I believe connects with/encompasses the Bay Area Ridge Trail. Insane climbs, dirt and loose rocks, dusty, heat baking, sweat everlasting, the smell of brush pancakes emanating from the bushes beneath the sun. I didn't pack water & stopped beneath the one patch of shade to cool. Reaching the halfway point on the top of a mountain, beside an air traffic control station, and back = quads killed. Back at our place, under the shower, the dirt in swirls about the drain, shoulders red, a liter of coconut water down, and Red feeding me bits of chocolate from the top of the shower's high-pressured head. We snacked on slices of granny apple and cheese. I put on a 2-piece pajama streetwear set and we headed downtown, idle in the traffic along the Embarcadero, slammed into the back of, a fender bender, but hell if we didn't want to deal with cars all day, so with dented rental bumper we parked in a tailgating lot by AT&T, and took foot & bus to pier for boats, bathrooms, birds & the ever seeping scent of hot shit before taking cart-peddler to the Buena Vista where Red had his first adult bev. as a boy.

On the corner of Hyde & Beach off Fisherman's Wharf, is Buena Vista, said to have introduced the US to the Irish Coffee in '52. The boardinghouse turned saloon is inlaid in tiles and mirrors, packed and table-shared; sipping the Irish from the chalice before we got In-n-Out double cheeseburgers, fries & two chocolate shakes, covered in glutton and grease on the corner of a crosswalk, watching the people.

Tailgating with rose, pretzels and chocolate, hoisting up the Wranglers and on into AT&T Park with its kayakers on the ready for right field homers into McCovey Cove. Our seats were right behind 1st, where we sat beside engaging couples, sleepy Canadian's and the son of a winemaker, eating hot dogs, peanuts and beer. We got to watch Bumgarner pitch, but the Giants lost 0-2. It might have been one of the best days of my life.

Saturday morning I ran a few hilly miles in the Headlands, we stopped for a hot breakfast in Sausalito & grabbed some coffee and chocolate chip cookies at a market before heading out on the 101-N, to Kelseyville, in Lake County, Ca where the Steele winery and tasting room are. It was blue-hot when we got to the winery, changed into grubby clothes and did punch downs on the caps - the solid mass of grape skins, stems and pips that float to the top of the fermenting vessel during fermentation. The romance of full body I-Love-Lucy punchin' was gone by way of the midday heat. Using a steel masher, my triceps doubled. Touring the property, watching the machinery grind, the varying trucks, the murals, dipping noses deep into the steel & singeing nostril hair on Co2 was really cool. After a couple rounds of punch downs we enjoyed my favorite black bubbles in the tasting room & were invited back to Jed's main house. Sink-rub-down-showers & beers cracked, sitting on his roof like kings of ship, overlooking old, withered vines.

Jed, his staff flown in from Montana, Red and I had dinner at the Saw Shop Bistro, in a sleepy part of town, sharing a couple special '91 vintages over truffle & parmesan fries, oysters, Ahi tuna "unrolled" with nori dust, and a Goooood Morning Vietnam (Vietnamese style roasted pork, pickled carrots, daikon radish & Adamson Ranch cucumbers with sambal mayo on a soft baguette w/ shoestring fries), finishing with whiskey cake, and back down the mountain's circular spiral, hours before we were back in Sausalito.

Sunday morning I ran a few more miles to see that fleet of boats in peek-a-boo views high up in the Headlands one last time. Packed our things and drove into town where we shared breakfast with Red's extended family, an assortment of PhD professors, thick accents, renovators, crossfit marathoners, and new graduates dressed to the nines. Afterwards we toured through the most incredible city of cemeteries to lay flowers on loved ones lost, noting the wild geese picking at all the left behind colors.