Bulgogi

I sat down to write about my wonderful Napa weekend, so what is the deal with the title, you might rightly inquire. Well, I decided to try a new marinade for my BBQ chicken thighs, and I went with bulgogi. I made my own as opposed to buying a bottle. The test will be tonight.  If it is tasty, I’ll tell you it was fantastic. Otherwise, we will not speak of it again.

And before I delve in to Napa, I need to give a shout out to the Hoteliers for hosting us on July 4th, which I should have put in my last post. They grilled up some sausages and Wagyu hot dogs. This took place at their Burlingame property, not in San Mateo or Oakhurst.  They were in a good mood because they were able to get out of their foray into Manhattan real estate when the high-rise they bid on began to buckle.

This past Friday morning we loaded into #1’s Subaru and headed to Carneros to hang with the Banker and Tina. We had a Far Niente wine tasting on the grounds before our dinner in their courtyard.  That Mexican dish I referenced in my last post was actually Peruvian. The Mexican rice I bought paired well and I was also responsible for prepping the green beans #1 brought up. We also enjoyed a South African Pinotage they had brought back from their recent trip. My wife’s peach cake topped things off.

The big event on Saturday was a tasting at Aonair Winery & Caves. There is an interesting origin story for this place.  The owner started making wine in his basement when he was 17 and spent some years in the industry before buying the property from a Kona coffee magnate that got in trouble for building a tunnel under a county road. In a stroke of luck, the new owner discovered it was the county that built the road on the winery’s property, so the tunnel was legit.  We also learned that a lot of banks would not lend, but First Republic stepped up.  The Banker stated that he worked there and recalled the deal.  That got him a bottle of small batch reserve.

We had a great diner that evening at Don Giovanni. They turned the heaters up at one point, which allowed me to re-heat my dish of Ziti Amatriciana. The Banker recommended the house wine and it was a winner. Our Uber ride home was a highlight.  We were greeted in Spanish, so I took it as my cue to gab a little. He said my Spanish was good. He then threw us a curve ball and said he was from Afghanistan and had been an interpreter for a colonel in the U.S. Army. He said he spoke Spanish, French, Arabic and Russian.  His three kids born over there were “amateur Americans” and his three kids born here were “organic Americans”.  He was quite engaging, but we all thought he might be a Vivarin customer.

Alas, all good times must come to an end.  After breakfast Sunday morning, we hung by the pool for a few hours before heading back to the FC. It is my fervent hope that #1 did not ruin our chances for another invite.