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With dwindling daylight, cooler temperatures (and snow!) setting in and cross-border travel restrictions easing, it’s official — I’m itching to travel.
Granted, I managed to briefly scratch said travel itch in early October when I visited Penticton, B.C., to judge at the WineAlign 2021 National Wine Awards of Canada. (I wrote about that here and WineAlign is now rolling out the results of the competition, which can be found here.)
WineAlign judges in the wild, at Crowsnest Vineyards in B.C.’s Similkameen Valley. (Ben Sigurdson / Winnipeg Free Press)
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But I’m already looking ahead to 2022, and how I can get myself back in front of a row of stainless steel fermenting tanks, in between rows of glorious grape vines, or into a tasting room with a winemaker (or, even better, into some musty cellar… “barrel room” is one of my favourite smells on earth).
That nagging travel itch has me thinking back on the opportunities I’ve had to explore wine-producing regions across four continents. Meeting legendary winemakers and tasting rare and iconic wines is certainly a thrill. My two-and-a-half week trip to Australia 2011 alone saw me, among other things, tasting Henschke’s iconic red wine Hill of Grace after meandering between rows of 150-year-old Shiraz vines, sampling a range of top-end wines at Penfolds (as an actual kangaroo jumped by the window) and sampling a thimble-full of a rich, viscous 100-year-old fortified wine at Seppeltsfield.
Moments after tasting Henschke’s iconic Hill of Grace at the winery in 2011. The wine is made primarily from Shiraz grapes grown on vines whose average age is over 110 years old. If you think screwcaps are just for cheap wines, take note of the closure here, and that the 2015 vintage of this wine sells for over $1,000 a bottle in Ontario.
One of my favourite things to do on a wine trip is to create my own adventures — to do stuff that’s not on the official itinerary. On that Australia trip, for example, I managed to see U.K. band Spiritualized at the Sydney Opera House and caught a raucous set by Winnipeg’s own Propagandhi at the Brisbane Hotel in Hobart, Tasmania.
Food and drinks-wise, going off the beaten track to find the authentic experience is equally fun. In February 2016 I was in California for two weeks — the first as part of a trade trip to Napa Valley and Sonoma County, and the second as one of a handful of fellowship recipients for the Symposium for Professional Wine Writers in Napa. In between the two, I had three days off, and one spot (other than the laundromat) I simply had to visit: the Tonga Room.
The Tonga Room, located in the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco, dates to 1945 and is known for its frequent thunder, lighting, rainstorms and tropical drinks. (Eric Risberg / The Associated Press files)
A cocktail at San Francisco’s legendary Tonga Room & Hurricane Bar https://www.tongaroom.com/ is an experience like no other. Located in the Fairmont San Francisco, I learned about the Tonga Room from Anthony Bourdain, when he visited the joint with local chef Chris Cosentino for an episode of The Layover.
In the centre of the room is the Fairmont’s old swimming pool, surrounded by extensive (and kitschy) tropical décor installed in 1945 under the direction of MGM set director Mel Melvin. While it’s known for its tiki-themed cocktails, it also serves up tropical-themed dishes and — I kid you not — fake rain falls over the pool intermittently throughout the evening. Hit the Tonga Room on the right night and you’ll catch live music on a miniature boat floating in the pool. It’s incredible.
A Zombie from The Tonga Room is strong, delicious and is enhanced by the lounge’s incredible atmosphere. (Ben Sigurdson / Winnipeg Free Press)
I arrived at The Tonga Room after a steep uphill walk (classic San Francisco), spent about 15 minutes in line before being informed it was standing room only for cocktails, which for my purposes (a quick drink and a chance to soak up the atmosphere), was just fine. Some 20 minutes (and one very strong Zombie) later, I sauntered out into the open air, careening downhill in search of some sushi.
Another culinary highlight of the trip was also of my own design. For the wine writers symposium we were put up in guest cottages at the ultra-swanky Meadowood Napa Valley. The one night we had no activities, I decided to splurge and order room service — in my case a frighteningly pricey wagyu beef burger, made to order in the facility’s three Michelin-star kitchen and then delivered to my little guest cottage on a golf cart.
It was incredible, unlike any burger I’ve ever tasted. (Sadly, the restaurant is temporarily closed after being gutted by the September 2020 Glass Fire that swept through the region.)
OK, last travel/food story for today: Argentina, 2017. A group of writers/wine professionals are crammed in a van, careening from one wine region to the next, when our guide asks if we’re hungry. We certainly hadn’t been underfed that trip, but most of us were a bit peckish, so we stopped in the tiniest of villages for a quick roadside bite to eat.
Empanadas and beer in the middle of nowhere in Argentina, 2017. A goat was tied up to a fence nearby. Whether it was a pet or a potential empanada filling, I cannot say. (Ben Sigurdson / Winnipeg Free Press)
I’m a sucker for anything savoury encased in dough — perogies, beef Wellington, dumplings, you name it. And to this day I can still almost taste the incredible empanadas and beer we had in that little village in the absolute middle of nowhere.
Until the world truly opens up again and there’s a chance to explore the far-flung wine regions of the world once again, I’ll make with do the closest local equivalents I can find — the fab tiki-inspired drinks of Sous Sol in Osborne Village, for example, or the killer burgers on 529 Wellington’s lunch menu, or Argentine-style empanadas from La Pampa.
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