Family style.

Way back when at the beginning of December, I flew out to San Francisco for the very best reason of all - to celebrate a friend. My friend Jason turned 30 recently, and 13 of us gathered in Sonoma to fête him with the proper pomp and circumstance. On our last day, we headed over the hills to Yountville for a visit to one of Jason's very favorite places, Thomas Keller's family-style restaurant: Ad Hoc.

The deal with Ad Hoc is that you show up (you can, and probably should, make a reservation) and eat whatever's on the menu for the day. You can sign up for menu updates on the website, but I kind of like the idea of being surprised. We went for Sunday brunch and completely hit the jackpot: chicken and waffles. Before the true debauchery started, though, we had a delightful citrus salad, with crème fraiche and frisée and candied nuts. It was amazing - the different kinds of citrus (pink and ruby grapefruit, blood oranges) were luscious and juicy, and the nuts added richness while the crème fraiche added body.

And then came the main event: fried chicken with sourdough waffles. Two dishes like this one were brought to the table, and the six of us killed them both. How could we not? It was the best fried chicken I've ever had. (Keep in mind, that's coming from a Yankee, so...) I could tell the meat had been brined, but only in the good way (not in the overly-salty, too-watery way), and the crust was crisp, flavorful, and adhered. Adhering is key, you know, because you want some in every bite. Skin that comes away in one piece with the first bite is no good to me.

The waffles were delicious, too - crisp on the outside, tender on the inside (not unlike the chicken, come to think of it), and speckled with bits of rosemary. Doused with cream gravy and maple syrup, the plates of chicken and waffle were just...so good. So satisfying. So wonderful.

I could only eat three bites of dessert, but not for lack of delicious. It was a spiced chocolate pot de crème with Chantilly cream, with snickerdoodle shortbread served alongside. The cookie and chocolate went marvelously together, and that's coming from a woman who rarely likes anything other than marshmallow, caramel, salt or nuts coming anywhere near her chocolate.

After lunch, we went for a little stroll around Yountville, starting in the garden behind the restaurant. As a born and bred Northeasterner, I don't know that I'll ever get over the magic of citrus trees in full bloom. Or perfect fried chicken.

What I've been up to.

Mostly this, which is Thomas Keller's fried chicken from his restaurant Ad Hoc in Yountville. I've been in California for several days, visiting a dear friend and celebrating another's 30th birthday.

I'm in a bit of a fried chicken fog, but I'll be back with far more very, very soon. In the meantime, get your holiday shopping done and leave a comment or two letting me know how your meal planning is coming along. I'm really feeling fancy latkes this year, and can't wait for my annual sticky toffee pudding.

On the (road)side.

When we were in Napa a few weeks ago, my mother and I - of course - made a pilgrimage to Taylor's (now re-christened Gott's - read about that particular saga over here) in St. Helena. No trip to Napa would be complete without one of their superlative burgers.

This time, instead of fries, we decided to split an order of onion rings. Now, I don't eat onion rings very often, mostly because I find them to be nearly universally disappointing. They're feckless little things. They feign competence, arriving all hot and golden and crispy, but they shed their delicious batter on any kind of contact with my mouth, leaving me with pointless, flavorless batter and limp, sad onion. There's nothing fun about that.

But Gott's onion rings aren't like that. These have a delicious beer batter that - get this - actually sticks to the onion! No matter how many bites you take, the two remain one! And what a delicious one they are. Well-seasoned with salt, perfectly cooked and crispy. These are onion rings as God and Mother Nature intended, my friends.

Oh, and - the burger is, of course, still stellar.

Gott's Roadside
933 Main Street
St. Helena, California
707.963.3486

A little bit of Paris in Yountville.

On our first afternoon in Napa, my mom and I paid a visit to an old favorite: Bistro Jeanty. Bistro Jeanty sits on Washington Street in Yountville, one of a few restaurants that make up what is quite possible the best couple of blocks for food in the entire world: The French Laundry, Bouchon, Bouchon Bakery, Bistro Jeanty and Ad Hoc. They're all right there; you could, theoretically, spend the entire day just eating, never walking more than a couple hundred feet between meals. (Someone's probably done it; if not, get on it, people with stomachs of steel!)

Bistro Jeanty opened in 1998, and has been packed to the gills for pretty much every meal ever since then. It's a bistro in the classic French style, serving perfect versions of all the dishes you've ever loved from that genre, including vol-au-vent made with sweetbreads and braised rabbit, cassoulet and daube de boeuf. On our visit, I decided to go for two smaller dishes, starting with one of my favorite things: frisée aux lardons salad.

Bistro Jeanty's version is served as a perfect poached egg perched atop a tangle of frisée and teeny, just-this-side-of-crunchy pieces of bacon. The vinaigrette itself is deliciously smoky; I wouldn't be at all surprised if this were due to a pinch or two of bacon fat in the dressing. In fact, I hope it is, because I plan to copy it.

Next up, one of the day's specials: pieds de cochon. When I ordered this as my main, the waiter cautioned me that it was an appetizer; was I sure I wanted such a small portion for my lunch? I assured him it would be fine, and was soon vindicated by the arrival of a dish accompanied by mashed potatoes. Anything that comes with mashed potatoes simply is not an appetizer!

Regardless of how you classify it, this was a delicious dish. Pieds de cochon does, in fact, mean pig's feet, and consists of the random bits of meat from the trotters, bound together in a kind of charcuterie not too different from headcheese. It's not unusual to see it served lightly breaded and fried, as this version was. It was very rich, and seasoned with tiny bits of black truffle. In face, I don't think I could have handled a bigger portion; it was perfect as it was.

For dessert, Mom and split what has to be one of springtime's great treats: fresh strawberries with creme fraiche and brown sugar. The tangy cream, the sweet berries and the molasses flavored sugar all combine into a little piece of heaven. If you've never had a chance to enjoy this combination, do it now - especially since strawberry season, at least on the East Coast, is at its height.

Bistro Jeanty
6510 Washington Street
Yountville, California
707.944.0103

Whatever the birthday girl wants, Thomas Keller provides.

After a day of burgers and champagne, what's a girl to do? Well, when she has a 30th birthday to celebrate, she piles into a limo with her closest friends and family (and a few bottles of champagne) and drives from Sonoma to Napa for dinner at Thomas Keller's Bouchon.

In his cookbook of the same name, Keller famously describes Bouchon as the place he likes to eat after a night of cooking at the more formal French Laundry, just down the street in Yountville. It's a traditional French bistro plopped down in the middle of Napa Valley. (You might think it would be lonely, but it's actually just a few doors down from another traditional bistro, Bistro Jeanty.)

The food at Bouchon is traditional, but not boring. In fact, I can safely say that it's among my top ten favorite places to eat in the entire world. The food is beautifully & meticulously executed, made with loving care and the best ingredients available. Case in point? Jeremy's French onion soup, made with a deeply rich beef stock and loads of sweet onions. Topped with a brioche crouton the exact size of the bowl and covered in melted gruyère, it's the most sinful soup you've ever seen. (Except maybe for the butternut squash soup, which Keller finishes with a stick of browned butter.)

For my starter, I ordered a special: an egg poached in red wine (oeuf en meurette), served with another of those inimitable croutons, extra red wine sauce, bacon and frisée. It was essentially a frisée aux lardons salad, minus most of the salad part, and it was delicious. Rich and silky, smoky from the bacon and just slightly dry, thanks to the red wine.

A couple of years ago, I spent a few months having nothing but disappointing steak after disappointing steak. I went to Bouchon and, with great trepidation, ordered the steak frites. And while it broke my losing streak, it ruined me for all other versions, possibly forever. I didn't order the steak frites this time, but Jeremy did. The steak at Bouchon is off-the-charts, thanks in part to the paste of shallots, butter and herbs decorating the top. The steak is cooked on a flattop, spread with the shallot mixture, and then finished under the broiler.

For my main, I had the duck: magret de canard and confit. The sear on the breast and legs was great, but my favorite parts were the huckleberry gastrique and the savoy cabbage. Sweet sauces pair beautifully with duck, and this one was no exception. The cabbage, with its peppery, slightly sour flavor, offered a nice contrast to the rich duck and the sweet fruit.

I somehow missed taking pictures of dessert, but I can assure you that it lived up to the rest of the meal. I ordered the restaurant's signature dessert, the bouchons - little cork-shaped brownies made with bittersweet chocolate. They were supposed to be served with mint ice cream, but since I pretty much hate mint in my desserts, I made a special birthday-girl request for coffee ice cream, and my wish was granted - all before I blew out my candle!

The stuff of stars.

After burgers at Taylor's, my entourage and I headed north to Calistoga, home of Schramsberg Vineyards. It was my second visit to Schramsberg (Mom and I went back in August 2007); I suppose I could have chosen something new and different for the big 3-0, but, frankly, nothing makes me happier than champagne, so why not?

After making our way up Schramsberg's twisty, steep drive, we gathered in the reception area and met our tour guide, Ron. (Schramsberg runs several guided tours and tastings per day; if you have six people or more in your group, they request that you reserve a private tour.) The reception area is decorated with photographs and news clippings chronicling Schramsberg's history (lots more on that - and the méthode champenoise - in my post from 2007). We found ourselves gathering around a series of White House state dinner menus - and two very famous champagne coupes.

See, Schramsberg was the wine Nixon took with him to China to toast Chinese Premier Chou En-Lai. Jack and Jamie Davies, the proprietors, had no idea what the cases of 1969 Blanc de Blancs were going to be used for, but were asked by the State Department to deliver them to an airstrip in Southern California - turned out they were bound for Air Force One. Schramsberg has been the White House's go-to sparkling wine ever since.

After a quick run-through of the winery's history, Ron took us down into the caves, most of which were carved out by hand back in the late 19th century, when Jacob Schram owned the land. Champagne goes through a double-fermentation process; first, it's fermented in large barrels, like any other wine. Then, the wine is placed in bottles along with some extra sugar - food for the yeast whose digestive processes will eventually yield all that good carbonation. Once the wine is in the bottles, it's placed in the caves, where it will age, get bubbly, and eventually become champagne. (More here on the whole process, called the méthode champenoise.)

The caves are naturally cool, damp places, draped in fuzzy moss and filled with a musty scent. Every once in a while, you come across a bottle whose bottom has blown out, thanks to the carbonation building up inside. Not something you'd want to see in action, though, since the glass can fly several hundred feet through the air.

Eventually, we made our way upstairs to the tasting room, where Ron started us with one of my favorite wines of all time, Schramsberg's Blanc de Blancs. (When it comes to champagne, the primary grapes are Pinot Noir and Chardonnay. A Blanc de Blancs is a white champagne made exclusively with Chardonnay grapes. A Blanc de Noirs is a white champagne made with Pinot Noir grapes, and so on.) It's apple-y and crisp - the perfect wine to drink alone or with a plate of oysters and mignonette sauce.

We made our way down the line, tasting the J. Schram, an unbelievably creamy vintage blend of Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, full of caramel flavors, round and supple in the mouth. I think I could drink nothing but J. Schram from here to eternity and be pretty damn happy.

Schramsberg makes what may be my favorite Brut Rose (Brut indicates a low sugar level - don't be fooled into thinking pink = sweet.), but the coolest thing about this shot are the little bubble volcanoes in each glass. See, the carbonation in champagne isn't released until it comes into contact with another substance. Usually, this is the microscopic dust inside your glass. These Riedel glasses, though, have little laser-etched dots in them, which give the bubbles a place to gather and help control the release of the fizz. So nifty.

On the way out, Uncle Jack showed off his purchase and took the Riddler's pose - toasting the stars, of which we'd just drunk. Copiously.

On this momentous day, we shall feast upon...burgers.

The morning of my 30th birthday dawned bright and sunny; being on the west coast meant my east coast friends had been up and wishing me well for a few hours already, so I spent some time checking my email and then headed downstairs to herd the crew into three of our assorted rental cars. Our first stop: Taylor's Automatic Refresher in St. Helena.

We had a 12:15 appointment at Schramsberg (more on that later), so it was going to be burgers for lunch at Taylor's, something about which a few of our party were slightly skeptical. One taste changed all that, though.

I've posted about Taylor's before, and I can assure you that their food is just as strong now as it was two years ago. The fries are fresh and piping hot, crisp and delicious. On this visit, I got to sample the standard fries as well as the garlic fries (above), which were stinky and tossed with parsley to make you feel healthy, and the sweet potato fries, which were served with a delicious aioli.

For my burger, I went classic old-school: hamburger with lettuce, tomato and pickle, topped with ketchup and mustard. The meat was well-seasoned and cooked perfectly to my requested medium rare; the pickles are still stand-out at Taylor's, and the bun is slightly toasted and the perfect texture: thick, but not too bready.

Aw yeah.

Taylor's Automatic Refresher
933 Main Street
St. Helena, California
707.963.3486

When in Napa, dine on sushi.

On our Friday in Sonoma, a few of us ladies decided to head back over the ridge to Napa for lunch at Go Fish, a seafood and sushi restaurant in St. Helena. Go Fish is the newest (It opened in 2006, so it's not really new anymore, I suppose.) restaurant from chef Cindy Pawlcyn, whose Mustard's Grill was part of Napa's fine dining revolution in the early 1980s.

I ate at Go Fish back in 2007, when I was visiting Napa with my mother. A friend had recommended it to me, but I was still a bit skeptical. Seafood? In landlocked Napa Valley? Really? As it turns out, yes!

We started with a couple of appetizers. The vegetable tempura was tasty, but not particularly photogenic. The salt crusted prawns arrived in their shells, surrounded by crisped garlic, and with a chile-flaked, sweet and sour sauce. I dipped mine and then ate them, shell and all. Crunchy, salty, spicy - what more could you want?

Surprisingly, our favorite appetizer was the green goddess salad. A salad of little gem lettuces, thinly sliced cucumbers, razor-thin radishes and teeny little tomatoes, it was dressed with the best green goddess I've ever tasted. Creamy, tangy and bursting with tarragon, it was just plain dreamy.

The mains were similarly delicious. We had a tuna reuben, with grilled bigeye tuna and coleslaw on rye bread, and a black cod in miso, one of Louisa's favorite things ever. I had one of my favorite things, a chirashi.

Chirashi is basically a bowl of sushi rice topped with all kinds of sashimi, served with soy sauce, wasabi and ginger. Since the nori is the only thing I don't really like about sushi, sashimi is usually my fix of choice, and chirashi is sashimi on crack. I just can't get enough. This bowl was particularly good, with a variety of tuna, salmon and hamachi, along with a (cooked) shrimp and seaweed salad with sesame oil.

We were far too full for dessert, but managed a coffee or two before heading out for some serious shopping - what else would you expect from ladies who lunch?

Go Fish
641 Main Street
St. Helena, California
707.963.0700

Aaaaand...we're off!

Hello, my lovelies! If I've timed things right, you'll be reading this post just as I land in sunny California. I'm headed to the Sonoma Valley to celebrate my 30th birthday with a group of family and friends. We've rented a house in Santa Rosa, and will be scampering all over the valley, with a few detours to Napa.

I've never been to Sonoma, so I'd love to hear any recommendations you have. My friends Wendy and Dayne just visited for their anniversary, so I'm using their trip as something of a crib sheet (they were also based in Santa Rosa). They know everything there is to know about wine and food and cocktails, so I can't wait to see their favorites.

Keep the city safe while I'm gone!

xoxo,
Queenie

Photos courtesy of wadetibb and Tyler Howarth.

Queenie's Take: Drinking your way through Napa.

Welcome to second edition of Queenie's Take! This week, we're talking travel!

Hall (no stranger to first-class travel experiences) is headed to Napa for a vacation in June, and is looking for some off-the-beaten-path spots to visit. He's been to Napa before, and he's done most of my favorites - Schramsberg, Far Niente, and so on. This time, he wants to try something new. And so I racked my brain, consulted my tweeps, and got down to business.

The question is where to go next? Any 'cult' vineyards that are worth seeing? Any over-the-top oenological experiences there that are hiding under my nose? Or, is there something else that is a must do? - Hall, Christchurch, New Zealand

After rigorous research and vetting (read: visiting a couple of these myself and asking some trusted friends), I think I have some ideas for you, Hall. First up, Frank Family Vineyards. I'm not really sure that Frank Family qualifies as a hidden treasure, since so many people mention them to me, but I love them all the same. Tucked away on a dusty side road just south of Calistoga, Frank Family produces delicious wines (I am particularly fond of their sparkling wines and their cabernet). They also have one of the livelier tasting rooms I've visited, with a casual, easy-going atmosphere.

Next, Reynolds Family. (Apparently, I have a thing for families.) I visited Reynolds Family with - appropriately enough - my mother, when we went to Napa in 2007. Our friends Rick and Aimee had alerted us to the awesomeness to be found at Reynolds, and they were right. The staff were some of the most knowledgable I've encountered in Napa, and the thirty-minute tasting was pure fun. They specialize in reds, and I actually have a bottle of their cabernet that needs drinkin'. Hmmm...

If you are hankering for a twisty drive, impressive views, and a gorgeous tasting room, head for Pride Mountain, which straddles the borders of Sonoma and Napa counties (and has the taxation headaches to prove it, it seems). Perched at the peak of the hill, the tasting room has expansive views of the valleys below, and the wines ain't bad, either. Just remember to designate a driver for the trek back down. (Safety first, kids!)

My friends Caroline and Brian are the ultimate Napa experts, so I trust their every word. They both (separately, so I REALLY trust it) recomment Vincent Arroyo, where the wine is so good that you really buy futures, as opposed to bottles. It sells out before it's out of the barrels. Seriously. And Brian says that August Brigg's Dijon Clones Pinot Noir is the best thing he tasted on his last trip.

So, Hall - I hope that'll do ya good for this trip. Don't forget to stop in at Bouchon Bakery for a caramel macaron, and you're golden.

As for the rest of you - please chime in with your favorite Napa and Sonoma destinations, and, also, with any questions you'd like to see me take on in a future edition of Queenie's Take!

It truly is sweet to do nothing.

A few years ago, I went out to dinner at Ouest with my friends Nick and Louisa. After a thoroughly delicious meal (I can still remember my first taste of the cauliflower custard with parmesan and lobster meat), dessert seemed a lost cause. Nick, always thinking, ordered us a bottle of Far Niente's Dolce. From the first sip, I was entranced. Here was an American wine that rivaled the great Sauternes, ripe with noble rot and sweet as honey.

And so when my mother and I were planning our trip to Napa, I insisted we make a pilgrimage to the home of my favorite dessert wine. Mom was game, particularly given her love for Far Niente's Cabernet Sauvignon. She still tells the story of how she bought a case of it back in the 1980's, and how the single bottle she has left, for which she paid about $10, is now worth about $200. She would return to the vineyard a triumphant collector, and I would get to taste Dolce at its source.

Far Niente was our first stop, and I drove at breakneck speed from Fresno to ensure we wouldn't miss a single minute of the visit. We ended up only missing about 10 minutes, not a bad showing, and joined our tour group on the balcony overlooking the fields and Route 29 beyond them. Far Niente's grounds are exquisite, lush with gardens and fountains, and the view was breathtaking.

From the balcony, we headed down into the cool quiet of the cellars, where we walked past yards and yards of French oak barrels, inside which the precious Cabernet sat, aging to perfection. The winemakers test the wine periodically as it ages, and little dribbles of red stain the barrels. The solution? Paint the barrels evenly with the wine, creating a soft red stripe down the middle of each. The wine ages the barrels, and the barrels age the wine.

On our walk to the wine library, we paused in front of a wrought-iron gate decorated with a golden sign - just beyond lay barrels of Dolce. So close, yet so far!

Once we had seen the library, we trooped back up the stairs to the main reception area, where a long oak table was set with ten places, each with a plate of three cheeses and five glasses. The tasting started with two Chardonnays, one from 2004 and the other from 2005. I preferred the 2004, which was a slightly richer, warmer wine. Both were paired with an Abbaye de Belloc, a French sheep's milk cheese whose caramel flavor went beautifully with the Chardonnays.


Next up, two Cabernet Sauvignons, one from 1998 and the other from 2004. I preferred the 2004 this time around as well. It was smoother and a little less spicy, but still round and full. The Cabernets were paired with a San Joacquin Gold, a creamy, rich cow's milk cheese.

Finally, and most delightfully, the freshly chilled bottle of 2003 Dolce was opened and poured into our waiting glasses. Dolce is a gorgeous honey color, thick-but-not-syrupy in the manner of the best dessert wines, like a good muscat, but redolent of noble rot, like a Sauternes. Far Niente paired the wine with a Bleu d'Auvergne, my most favorite blue cheese. It comes from the Auvergne region of France, and its flavor is strong, robust, but not overpowering - the perfect compliment to the slightly mouldering wine. Yum. And oh-so-pretty.

All in all, a wonderful visit, capped off with a significant purchase of Cabernet, Chardonnay - and, let's not forget, the Dolce. I bought two 375 ml. bottles for my own cellar.

Who wants to come over for dinner?

All that sparkles is gold (and sometimes pink).

I am in love with champagne.

I have always enjoyed champagne, but only in the last couple of years have I begun to develop a true appreciation for it, an appreciation that borders on worship. It's a drink with endless variations, a spectrum of flavors, the added textural element of the bubbles (which vary so widely from wine to wine), and it makes everything so gosh-darn special. Plus, it's way more fun to learn about than still wine - you've got the yeast, the degorgement, the riddling...fascinating.

Plus, champagne has inspired some of the loveliest drinking-related bon mots yet coined, including the (apocryphal) "Come quickly, I'm drinking the stars," attributed to Don Perignon, and, more recently, this one from The Philadelphia Story: "Champagne is funny stuff. I'm used to whiskey. Whiskey is a slap on the back; champagne is heavy mist before my eyes."

If you ask someone from France if what Schramsberg Vineyards produces in California is champagne, they will poo-poo you. If you ask a member of Schramsberg's staff, they will launch into a mini-lecture on the methode champenoise and the 1891 Treaty of Madrid, which provided France with sole ownership of the term "champagne." Schramsberg's product may not technically be champagne, but it's absolutely stellar.

Our tour of the Schramsberg facilities began with the long ascent of a narrow, curving drive. We were a bit early, so we spent some time enjoying the crisp sunshine of a Calistoga morning and chatting with the staff about the tornado that had touched down that day in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. The other members of our tour trickled in, and at 10:30 we gathered by the Frog Pond to begin.

Our guide gave us a bit of the history of the estate, originally established by Jacob Schram in 1862. The hillside vineyards reminded him of those used to grow Riesling in his native Germany, and he bought the land and began his wine-making business (he had been a barber by trade). Eventually the family sold the property, and nothing much of note really happened to it until Jack and Jamie Davies bought the land in 1965.

The Davies' were specifically interested in making sparkling wines, but only discovered after moving onto the land that the hot Calistoga hillsides (Calistoga is typically 5 to 15 degrees warmer than the rest of the Napa Valley) were not particularly hospitable to the two grapes essential to champagne, Pinot Noir and Chardonnay. They set about finding suppliers in other parts of the valley, and produced their first sparkling vintage in 1965. Widespread fame came in 1972, when President Nixon used the 1969 in his toast to China. Schramsberg has been the official sparkling wine of U.S. presidents ever since.

After the history lesson, we proceeded into the caves. Based on my trip to the Champagne region of France, I knew we'd be spending most of our time in the cellars looking out for the remnants of bottles that had exploded during the aging process and hearing about the magic of riddling and its grand finale, degorgement.

Riddling is so cool - in order to get the sediment produced by the yeast (whose carbon dioxide exhalations remain behind to make your champagne good and bubbly, or subtly creamy, depending) out of the bottle, the riddler comes around periodically and turns the bottle just so. With his or her hands. A tiny bit each time, with just their fingertips, ever so lightly. A good riddler turns upwards of 20,000 bottles each day. Schramsberg's turns 35,000.

Once the sediment has collected in the bottom of the bottle, and been coaxed toward the neck, it's time for the degorgement. Basically, they freeze the neck of the champagne, open it, allow the ice cube (which now contains the sediment) to pop out, top the bottle off quickly with the dosage (whose contents differ from maker to maker) and seal the whole thing up again. A few months of aging incorporate the dosage into the wine, and bam! Champagne ready for drinking.

After a spin around the caves, we were led into an empty room, at the back of which stood a table - our tasting was in the caves! This was one of the neater things about the visit. It felt very personal and intimate, and we never felt rushed. Quite the opposite, actually - the computers were down, so the staff from upstairs brought a sixth bottle for us to taste (to keep us occupied so that we could place orders on said computer before we left).

We tasted the Blanc de Blancs first. Blanc de Blancs means "white of whites," and contains only Chardonnay grapes. It was tart, full of apple flavor, and would have paired beautifully with oysters. Its bubbles were lively but small, popping all over the tongue. Next up, the Blanc de Noirs, which, as you've probably guessed, is a white champagne made entirely of Pinot Noir grapes. This one was true to its Pinot origins, full of berry flavors and a subtler bubble than the Blanc de Blancs.

Third, the J. Schram, which was one of the most full-bodied champagnes I've tasted. It could stand up to lamb, something that can't be said for many sparkling wines. We followed it with the Brut Rose - I have a soft spot for pink champagne, and this one was no exception. It was divine, and our guide recommended pairing it with lobster or buttered popcorn. I hope to put both suggestions to good use someday soon.

Finally, we moved on to the Reserve, which had a deep caramel flavor - it would be lovely after dinner or on its own. The bottle rushed down to compensate for the computer lag time was the Cremant, a sweeter wine - perfect with or instead of dessert.

So, basically, all I have left to say about Schramsberg is this - you should go. Or at least get up, go to the wine store, and buy a couple of bottles. But you shouldn't store them in the fridge for more than a month (which is an awfully good excuse to drink anything you've got in there right now).

Pre-degorgement photo courtesy of Google Images. Photos of Schramsberg's Frog Pond and the Rose champagne courtesy of yours truly.

There's nothing wrong with a burger...or three.

My recent travels have presented me with the opportunity to eat lots of great meals: ris de veau at Bouchon, coq au vin at Bistro Jeanty, steak with Bearnaise sauce as prepared by Nick - and quite a few burgers.

Hamburgers, not cheeseburgers, you understand. Though I've warmed to cheese over the last couple of years (I hated it with a flaming, burning passion from early childhood - odd, given my willingness to eat almost anything else.), I still don't like it on my burgers. So don't even ask.

The burger is perhaps the quintessential American food, something that rang true with me as never before on my trip to Strasbourg last year. Louisa and I met an incredibly charming (I'm swooning at the memory) French man at a bar near the cathedral who had attended UT Austin for university.

By the end of it, he said, people didn't believe him when he told them he was French. He himself only realized how truly Americanized he'd become when he mastered the art of driving while eating a hamburger. And I believe it - I picture him, from time to time, cruising down a two-lane, rural Texas highway, burger in hand, the wind in his hair (because, of course, he's driving a red convertible), and think: "Good lord, how American."

The freedom of the open road epitomized by a hand-held meal. Like Henri*, I associate burgers with driving and travel, and so am not terribly surprised that my first lunches upon arrival in Norwalk, Fresno and Calistoga, respectively, were hamburgers all.

First up, H n' B's Hop in Norwalk, Ohio. I admit, this was my first old-fashioned hamburger hop ever. As Louisa and I pulled up, I looked around for the waitresses in bobby socks and roller skates, but, alas, you now go inside to order off of the hand-written menu.

I went for the hamburger meal (with fries) and a small vanilla shake. After all, I was on vacation, people. Louisa ordered the BBQ beef sandwich and sauerkraut balls, an Ohio specialty of which I'd been ignorant before my visit (look for a separate post on those later). We grabbed a table in the dappled shade of the Hop's wooden canopy and waited patiently for our food and drinks.

They called our names, and we ran up to the counter, salivating. Now, I know it doesn't look like much, but trust me, this burger was awfully good. Straightforward, with robust, beefy flavor, and just the right size. I'm sure I'll get hate mail for this one, but I really don't like a thick hamburger patty - they're hard to eat, messy, and don't leave enough bite clearance for the good stuff, like tomatoes, pickles and onions. The condiments on this were good, but the beef was the standout. Not surprising, given I was in the Midwest, land of excellent beef (though too often also the land of excellent beef overcooked to point where its excellence goes bye-bye).

The shake was thick and delicious, rich and robustly vanilla, and definitely not light on the ice cream. Just the way I like it. Needless to say, I was quite full as we tottered back to the car. Oof.

My next hamburger experience came at a restaurant that is, frankly, the standard by which I judge all other fast food burgers: In n' Out Burger. If you are not yet familiar with In n' Out, you must live east of the Mississippi or somewhere outside of the States. If this is the case, I advise you to buy a plane ticket to parts west as soon as possible - they've got stores all over California, and a couple in Nevada, I think. Go. Go now.

Why are their burgers so good? Well, they're delicious. Oh, ok - so, the meat is never frozen. It's fresh. The veggies? Ditto. Including the potatoes, which are peeled and sliced into tiny little french fries right there in the store. Right there in front of you!

Whenever I visit my mom in Fresno, I make every effort to visit In n' Out for a double meat with fries and a Diet Coke. It just makes me smile. Some people don't like "secret" or "special" sauces - not me. Condiment-loving fiend that I am, I just can't get enough. Onions? Bring it on - I'm not kissing anyone tonight. Pickles? Marry me.

I am, however, undecided in the matter of In n' Out's fries. Yes, they're fresh and taste more like potatoes than any other fast food fry I have ever tasted in my life. But they're a little bit...soggy. Like someone forgot to teach the In n' Out folks the old fry 'em twice trick. But I get them anyway, because I'm a sucker.

Finally, a visit to Taylor's Automatic Refresher in St. Helena. I'm sure it's not the case, but I wouldn't be surprised if people trying to get to Taylor's is the reason traffic in St. Helena is so maddening around lunchtime - it's that good, and that popular. Don't be fooled by the picture on the website - it's mobbed around the clock (though I managed to escape the worst of it by going for lunch at 2:00 PM).

I ordered a hamburger, fries, and (gasp!) a Diet Coke, then grabbed a seat at one of the picnic tables to wait for my name (Megan B.) to be called by the cute boy manning the microphone. The total (around $10) was the highest by far of my three hamburger outings, not surprising given the locale (Napa Valley) and the clientele (those who prefer their down-home food come with upscale trappings, including gourmet pickles and bottles of wine).

Let me start with the fries - Taylor's fries were, hands-down, the winners in their category (for this go-round, at least). Crisp, perfectly salted, and piping hot, they tasted of potato and of summer, and tasted great dipped in mayonnaise (my ultimate test, as ketchup is awfully acidic and can mask weak potato flavor).

Finally, the hamburger. This was a hamburger worthy of its price tag. The Taylor's sauce is mustardy where In n' Out's is ketchupy, and the deeper flavor goes well with the as-close-to-cucumber-as-you-can-be-and-still-be-a-pickle new pickles (my favorites). The toppings were around the burger - the lettuce and tomato below, pickles above, and I enjoyed this pre-packaging of the tasty meat. Not quite as purely beefy as H n' B's, it was still well-seasoned and tasty. Plus, they asked me how I wanted it cooked - and managed medium-rare, even with a satisfactorily thin patty. A feat few can manage, friends.


*Not his real name, but we never asked what it was, and it seemed to suit him best.