It may never rain in California, but it does fog up...

The genesis of our recent trip to California was the Captain thinking it would be a great birthday gift if he were to take advantage of a Southwest Airlines sale and jet off to Torrence, home of one of his all-time favorite breweries: Monkish. I agreed but suggested we also take advantage of our companion pass, that I go along and we add Napa to the trip. 

It turned out to be one of my better ideas.

Jeff has been known to travel with small suitcases folded into larger ones with hope to fill one with beer on the return trips. This time, he planned to convert a large backpack for that use, while also shipping one box back. He had a budget that was a fraction of his desire, but planned to keep to it.

Our trek began in Sacramento, and as we set off for Napa, I suggested we probably had time to drop into the Statehouse and thank Governor Gavin Newsom for all he's doing to save the nation. I wasn't really joking, but the Captain kept the car headed to Napa and away from the capitol city. 

We talked a little politics, a little family stuff, some football stuff and other timely topics. I don't remember the impetus, but we also talked about whether Jeff would get into heaven. He posited, quite confidently, that he would.

"I'm like bleu cheese," he said. "I'm more cheese than mold."

The analogy was so terrible, we might have stopped talking altogether.

The Wine

We only had a couple full days in Napa. Day One was start with a balloon ride over the valley and include a wine tasting. Day two was to be spent biking to three wineries. Why only four tastings, you ask? Because I am a lightweight. Also, we learned from the pros that three is a stretch and four is too many. One poor lady actually threw up at Stag's Leap Wine Cellars. It was her fourth stop and she came in already reeling. I was totally buzzed after each stop - which averaged about two hours and 6-8 pours - but never got close to sick.

After getting in late and surviving a severely twisty drive in the inky dark, we woke up early, excited for our balloon trip. Sadly, it was not to be as the fog was too great. 

We learned that Napa is a sleepy town in late October. We were outnumbered by landscaping teams that were clipping, cleaning and tidying up the place before visitors like us were supposed to see it. Sort of like Disney in that way of making the kingdom always seem pristine. With little to do, we looked for a breakfast place that wasn't just coffee and pastry (which we'd already had as we waited for an hour or so for a launch decision.) We settled on Lucy, which was lovely and evoked fond memories of my mother, also named Lucy. It was a but more expensive than your average Indiana breakfast due to us drowning our balloon sorrows with hefty morning cocktails. 

Perusing the menu, which leaned even further left than me, I opted for the omelette du jour.

Smartly, the waitress said, "Do you know what it is?"

When I admitted I didn't, she advised me that it was tofu and maybe wheatgrass and cheese coaxed from a goat only when it was good and Goddamn ready to share its milk. Jeff claims she said "Tofu and sadness," but he was too busy choking after I asked if there was another option to the "omelette of the day" to really hear.

She initially said no to my request, but later agreed the kitchen could swap the tofu for ham, cheese and spinach. It was yummy. The best thing about the place was the bidet, though. I'd doubted the need for such a thing, but am now a convert.

We ditched our cool weather/up-in-the-air clothes when the sun burned off the fog in time for our afternoon visit to PlumpJack Estate Winery, where we were the only customers. 

What might have been bad for them, was awesome for us. We got to know our host, Tom, who went overtime with us and brought out wines you can only get there. Bonus: Governor Newsom is a part owner.

We also stopped in at Goosecross Cellars, a newer winery that was built in such a way that you entered to a room with a bar that was totally overtaken by the huge window overlooking the back acreage. It looked like a painting. #Gorgeous.

We had another long stay, tripped through some rows of grapes and saw our first concrete egg. We left with another bottle we hadn't planned to acquire.

I took a big, long nap before dinner, which was at Brix, a recommendation from several folks back home. #Lovely.

The next day dawned with more fog and a light rain, so we opted to grab breakfast sandwiches and coffee at the Mini Model Bakery & Cafe, a place we'd seen while wandering the town the prior morning. The fog didn't lift, so we drove to Stag's Leap Wine Cellars rather than bike as we'd planned. #SoGood

We chose Stag's Leap Wine Cellars - not to be confused with Stags' Leap Winery (there was a feud and lawsuit over that apostrophe) - because we love their wine and wanted to be fancy. We were randomly placed with a small group, who were all super fun. Four were from Wisconsin and a solo guy had lived in Evansville, Ind. for a time. Such a small world.

It was a great stop, made better because the Captain charmed our host, Maurice, who hugged us before we left. We visited their cave and heard great stories as we sat in a beautiful room with a view of the rock where the famous stag made his jump. 

The story involves native tribes that would herd deer and force them to jump to their deaths, which became dinner for the tribe. One canny stag evaded them with a tremendous jump to the left rather than down, or so the story goes, per Maurice. Another fun fact, in a large circular area of the cave, there's a pendulum hovering over the center point. Around it, the floor is paved such that it mimics the boundary lines of the various vineyards, giving you a sort of aerial view of the valley back when there were several dozen, rather than the 600+ vineyards of today.

The fog lifted while we drank at Stag's Leap, so we drove home with our bottles, changed into shorts and drove back to Yountville proper to claim our bikes. Following a recommendation from Tom, we went off the beaten Wine Trail a bit and when we stopped to snap a few pictures, we heard our names and looked over to see our Stag's Leap companions waving to us from the road. They were in an SUV and headed off to their own ramblings but recognized us even with our helmets on. 

We biked back to the town to pick up the wine trail and then over to Elyse Winery, which we chose in part because it was on the trail and in part because of a recommendation from one of Jeff's wine guys, who'd also turned us on to PlumpJack. 

Our host there was Dean, an Ohio native, who was super laid back and full of great stories. He was also generous with his pours and broke out a bottle of old vine Zinfandel that made me wonder why I'd abandoned that grape so many years prior. He'd been a sommelier for decades before finding his niche in Napa.

We (maybe it was just me) wobbled back to the trail on our bikes to enjoy the last dregs of the sun. A shorter nap this time, then off to dinner at Mustards Grill, which turned out to be practically next door to Brix. #MoreGreatFood. 

The next morning was beautifully clear. As we drove toward Oakland, we were in the midst of a helium-fueled light brigade. There were balloons to the left of us, balloons to the right and balloons overhead. 

Was I bitter? Maybe a little, but the weather doesn't report to me. We'll get up there. Someday.

The Beer

Jeff loooooves Sante Adairius Rustic Ales - or SARA as the cool cats call it - and I was happy for him. It was his birthday trip, after all. But I was on the edge of hangry by the time we got there. Happily for me, the bartender pointed out nearby eateries and said outside food was just fine. Happily for Jeff, he got to sip stuff you can't get in Indiana while I foraged. 

Soon enough, it was time to get to the surprisingly near-empty San Francisco airport for our flight to Los Angeles and the big stop of the beer end of the tour: Monkish Brewing Company.

We stayed one block off Hermosa Beach in LA. We got in late, so essentially went straight to bed without really getting a good look at the place. Monkish opened around noon, and we were still mostly on Indiana time, so we had a good bit of time to kill on our first full day. We decided to stop in at the Getty. I'm generally skeptical about the ability of the super rich to be decent humans, and I don't know much about J. Paul Getty. But I did want to see Van Gogh's "Lilies."  

En route, we passed through Malibu, which was not at all what I expected. I was all about walking the beach and seeing crazy expensive homes, but it was a little foggy, and we were on a schedule. The plan was to do a windshield tour, spend a little time at the Getty and get to Monkish as soon as it opened. 

We set out, me thinking we'd get breakfast on the way, but I failed to think out loud enough.

We opted to take a small loop through the hills and were amazed at the steepness and the deep ravines. Sadly, we saw police at one bend and looking down, saw a car upside down. I don't know if we were there well before or well after the ambulance, but was happy not to see whoever was at the wheel. I did suggest the Captain could keep his eyes on the road. 

The Getty is just astounding. I think the Greek gods would be happy vacationing there. I would like to see a time-lapse movie of how they managed to build this white stone castle in the hills. 

You could spend time just admiring the place without even getting to the art, but of course we did both. People clustered around the Van Gogh much like the "Mona Lisa" in the Louvre. eff can spend a lot of time in art museums, but the lure of beer had him checking his watch. 

By this time, I was more than ready for food, and there was no guarantee that there would be food at Monkish.

I'd texted and even replied to a social media post, but had no answer when we departed the museum. After a little verbal warfare, I found a place (Yes, I swear it's on the way...) to snag a real meal. I even chose barbeque because it's a Captain favorite. We get to Monkish to find a pop-up barbeque shop...

I devour my meal as Jeff goes to the bar... and discovers some of the beer he'd wanted is already sold out. We had a couple beers. He went back to get another and that particular keg tapped out as he ordered it. 

He came back sad. I reminded him that it was his birthday. He remembered that Monkish had an outpost in Anaheim. So off we went.

The Anaheim location had most of the options he wanted and a few new things, too. It was in a cool spot, too. Getting ready to leave, I asked if he'd gotten all the beer that he wanted.

"I got as much beer as I can have," he said, a trace of sadness back in his voice. 

I may have rolled my eyes.

The Food

We loved the Bottle Inn on Hermosa Beach so much, we went twice. The first night, I wasn't super hungry so had soup and salad while Jeff had lasagna, which came with a red sauce so bright and garlicky it almost glowed. The second time I had the rigatoni, which rivals Mama Carolla's, and he had a steak. Both were incredible. Breakfast was across the street at Martha's, and it was also crazy good.

Our other big meal was at Cafe Bonaparte down the Strand a bit. We were the only ones in the place, so we chatted with our bartender/waitress, Leslie. I asked if she could make me a French 75. "What's that?" she asked. I opted for the menu offering of a lemon drop martini. I'm not a huge martini fan, but I do like lemon. She came back with a beautiful drink and when I expressed my satisfaction, she brought me more. Kind of like an old fashioned soda fountain where they give you the stainless steel canister when they make you a milkshake.

"I made a little too much," she said. 

I asked her for the recipe, and she revealed it was equal parts (2.5 ounces) vodka, lemon juice and simple syrup. 

"That's not a martini," the Captain intoned. The Internet agreed with him, but I didn't care.

Our onion soup was wonderful, as was a pork belly pizza and Jeff's boeuf bourguignon.

We had drinks and snacks at the Tower 12 bar overlooking the Hermosa Beach playa. Having indulged a lot already on the trip, I thought a salad would be good. Jeff ordered.

"There's a lot of meat in this salad," I said.

"That's what caught my eye," he said. "Less salad in this salad."

Having had a salad, the Captain ordered a tuna poke dish, then decreed we had earned ice cream. He'd noticed The Baked Bear shop the day before and ended up with a sandwich of a mocha blend wad of ice cream between two home-made cookies. I declined my own but did more than nibble on his selection as we walked the Strand.

"Holy fuck, this is good," moaned the birthday boy. "When was the last time you had a $13 ice-cream sandwich?"

The answer: never. It was, however, really good.

Between the drinking and the eating, we walked a good portion of the sand between the beaches of Manhattan and Hermosa.

I also spent a good portion of beach time alone, reading books, while Jeff searched for more finds of the liquid persuasion. 

It was a great trip that gave me plenty of time to indulge in literary pursuits. I finished:

• The Kiss of the Basilisk - a recommendation from friends to whom the Captain remains grateful; 
• The Deep End - Ali Hazelwood can do no wrong per the above referenced friends, who are 2/2;
• The Song of Achilles - great historical fiction regarding that guy with the sensitive ankle; 
• The Wondrous Lives and Loves of Nella Carter - a really cool take on getting the best of an immortal with chutzpah and faith in humanity; and
• Pride and Prejudice - maybe I was feeling like I'd swum too deep in the romance waters. Still slogging through this one if I'm totally honest. (I never said I was deep...)

Next up is "My Friends" which finally came available on my Libby app. Oh, and yeah, I'm awaiting the second book in the basilisk series, which should arrive next week. Care to wager whether I'll get through P&P before it gets here?