Bonne Chance @ DAHplaytime

The Asphalt Guy

So Kris Middleton and I went to dinner at Carlucci's in Chicago (near O'Hare) on Tuesday evening. It was a recommendation of Eric at the front desk of the Marriott Residence Inn where we're staying during the Vintage New World crew drive (see www.VintageNewWorld.com and scroll down the front-page blog for more on the crew drive).

Eric had their substitute airport shuttle drive, Mario, take us to Carlucci's. We had a nice supper there: salad, pasta, Chianti Classico, very attentive staff. Then we called the hotel and they sent Mario to come and get us.

Kris saw Mario driving up at the restaurant, so we went out to meet the shuttle. Apologizing, he said he had a pick-up at the airport, too, so we'd have to take a little ride with him. "OK," we replied, just happy to have such an easy way to and from Carlucci's.

At the airport we picked up a flight attendant and a fellow who was madly fiddling with his phone. He was pretty clearly a sales guy of some sort. He was looking for a place to eat. We explained how we'd found a place, and the flight attendant chimed in with a few ideas (she'd clearly been at this Residence Inn before). And we fell to chatting.

The phone-fiddling fellow asked what business we were in. When we said "wine" he sighed in envy, and we shared stories about partying in Paso Robles and San Luis Obispo, where we have a winery (Clayhouse Wines) and he had apparently spent a few months on a project.

And that's when he became The Asphalt Guy.

He had been in San Luis Obispo County because they had a test project for their asphalt additive. "You sell an asphalt additive?" asked DAH.

"Yeah," said the fellow. "We developed and sell an additive that eliminates the carcinogenic compounds released when asphalt is heated and deployed. It mostly benefits the road workers. But if you stood around sniffing fresh asphalt without an additive like ours, it would be carcinogenic for you, too."

Well, I didn't know there were asphalt additives that cut down on carcinogens, but I'm interested to hear about them.

"I guess I haven't found asphalt as strong smelling recently," I said. "Must be your product, or do you have competitors?"

"Yeah, we have competitors," he replied. "And even with all of us, we probably impact only one percent of all asphalt in use."

So, I mused, the other ninety-nine percent is still carcinogenic. And how come I haven't heard about any movement to cut asphalt carcinogens? People are probably dying, here!

And I thought about how unromantic The Asphalt Guy's job sounded compared to the wine business. And I thought about how his product was actually pretty darn worthy of respect, if it really did save lives. And I thought about how much I knew about my little world, and how little I knew about The Asphalt Guy's world.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

Ridge Geyserville at Café Roma

Christine and I dined at Café Roma in San Luis Obispo's "railroad district" on Saturday evening.

Cafe Roma
1020 Railroad Ave
San Luis Obispo, CA 93401
(805) 541-6800

Café Roma (and several other fine restaurants) are only a few minute's walk from our home, across the Jennifer Street bridge (pedestrian and bicycle bridge over the railroad tracks). It's several blocks farther into downtown. But it's great having the railroad district restaurants so close to home.

We had a great dinner, outside on their covered, walled patio. A glass of Prosecco to start, along with a shared order of calamari. A delicious bowl of Italian olives. Beet and avocado salad over butter lettuce, with crumbled Gorgonzola and the lightest vinaigrette, and a couple of stuffed pasta dishes as our mains. A lovely, well-prepared dinner.

We had a bottle of Ridge Geyserville 2006 with dinner. I ordered the Ridge Lytton Springs 2006, but they were out of stock on that one. The Geyserville didn't seem badly priced, only about 50 percent above retail.

I've long enjoyed Ridge wines, and admired their approach to their vineyards and bottling.
The winery that would become Ridge Vineyards was established on the Monte Bello Ridge (above what is now Cupertino) around 1890 by Osea Perrone. In the 1940s the abandoned winery and vineyard were purchased and restored by William Short. Those restored vineyards became the basis for Dave Bennion and his partners (all Stanford researchers) establishment of Ridge Vineyards in the 1960s.

Ridge became something of Zinfandel specialist and purchased a Lytton Springs (Sonoma County) vineyard and winery in 1991. They now operate in both the Monte Bello and Lytton Springs locations, but make wines from a wide range of other vineyards around California.

Winemaker Paul Draper joined Ridge in 1969, and he's still there. I love the honesty and simplicity of their approach to winegrowing, and that is reflected in their iconic packaging (I don't think that's changed much at all in 40 years). Ridge is famous for vineyard designated red wines, although they make a tiny amount of Chardonnay. The first Ridge Geyserville was made in 1966, and it is worth noting that the wine is now called "Geyserville" (no Zinfandel), just as the Ridge Lytton Springs is called just "Lytton Springs" (no Zinfandel). These are blends created from the vineyards, and don't necessarily qualify for varietal naming (a wine has to be 75 percent of one varietal to carry that varietal's name). Here's what it says on the label of this (40th!?) Ridge Geyserville:

2006 Geyserville Vineyard, bottled January 2008
70% Zinfandel, 18% Carignane, 10% Petite Sirah, 2% Mataro

Winter rains continued into late March, sustaining the vines through summer. A full crop — comparable to 2005 — was thinned to intensify flavors. In September, as fog off the Pacific persisted, we dropped more clusters to eliminate damage to the fruit. Each parcel fermented separately on natural yeasts. Color and tannin extracted easily; we pressed at near-dryness after seven days. The uninoculated secondary finished within three weeks. Assemblage began October 10, when all the mixed-varietal parcels and one of petite sirah were combined. Based on further tastings, four zinfandel blocks were added, then two century-old carignane blocks for their opulence and complexity. At the end of June, a last rich, well-structured zinfandel lot completed assemblage. After fourteen months in barrel, the wine is fully integrated. Elegant tannins and intense fruit make it enjoyable now; it will be best over the next eight to ten years. EB (11/07)

This was a rich, dark, delicious wine. Great with our dinner, and it made me want to drink Ridge more often. If you remember what I wrote a few days ago about my favorite wine book: Kermit Lynch probably likes Ridge wines. And Kermit's friend Richard Olney's nephew is now one of the Ridge winemakers! I see a wine club membership in my future!

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

Doing What Works

There's a great book by Bill O'Hanlon titled "Do One Thing Different." The general premise is that if you keep doing the same thing, you're likely to keep getting the same results. Unless, of course, something else major changes. If you keep trying to walk up a steep hill, and you never can make it to the top, and then there's an earthquake, and the hill is leveled, you can do the same thing (trying to walk up the steep hill) and succeed, because other circumstances changed (the hill got flat).

However, barring earthquakes and similar major impacts on existing circumstances, we should not expect new results from the same old efforts. That's the point of "Do One Thing Different."

One of Mr. O'Hanlon's precepts is "Doing What Works." This is one of my rules of success, and how to make your own luck.

My boss, Rich Hanen, called me this morning, a little frustrated. We started work on our current company about 20 months ago. And we agreed then that we would have to do something different, if we wanted a different experience in the wine business. We started down that path, then, as we established our team of employees and contractors, and begin building and rebuilding wine trade relationships, we've found ourselves back on the path of "doing the same thing." As a company, and as a team of work-mates, we have day by day made practical choices that incrementally moved us right back onto the path we knew wouldn't get us where we wanted to go.

But it is a familiar path, I'll give it that. And we know just how to walk on it. Indeed, we walk on this same old path with great skill and confidence. It just isn't going to take us where we want to go. A terminal problem.

Anyway, Rich said to me, "We need to decide what to do based on our ability to execute." That sounds a lot like "Doing What Works." Well, we know what works and where, and we can guess that by investing greater resources in what works where, we will probably make it work bigger and better. We become solution-oriented, by focusing on what works, and doing more of that.

Why isn't "Doing What Works" the same as just doing the same thing? Thus flying in the face of "Do One Thing Different?"

Because most of us don't spend our time on what's working. We spend our time trying to fix the things that aren't working.

Thus, if there are parts of our current path that do aim towards our desired destination, and we walk those parts skillfully and happily, we should, perhaps, look for more paths like that, paths that work, and that we succeed at walking.

Keeping an eye on what works, and figuring out how to do more of that, is strength and success based. And we'll be doing one thing different because we're focusing on what works, rather than on what's broken, or unlikely to work. Or the path that doesn't even take us where we're trying to go.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

The NAPITA Club

What you are about to read may or may not be true. I'm not going to tell you.

I have a special, secret club. Well, the club isn't really a secret. Its membership is secret.

It's the NAPITA Club. And, in all honesty, I have told a couple of close friends about the club, and assured them that they are members. But I can't tell you who they are.

My NAPITA Club makes me happy. When I think about its members, they make me happy.

You could have a NAPITA Club, too. So long as you keep its membership secret, it costs you nothing. But you have to keep its membership secret. If you don't, you'll have some people clambering to join, and you won't want to let them in. That will make them very sad, and possibly angry, at you.

NAPITA is an acronym. An acronym is a word made up from the initial letters of the several words in a longer name.

Not A Pain In The Ass

NAPITA

And, thus, NAPITA Club.

It's very personal, for me. I can stand in any gathering of my friends, family and/or co-workers, look around the room, and identify my NAPITA Club members almost instantly.

In. In. Out. In. Out. In. In. In.

Etcetera.

I could dearly love every person in that room, but they would not all be members of my NAPITA Club. Membership really doesn't have anything to do with whether I like you or love you. It has to do with whether or not, in my life, you are a PITA.

And I'm pretty sure that some of my friends, family and/or co-workers are PITAs on purpose. That might be how they get on in the world. They could form another club, I guess. POP.

So here's why membership in your NAPITA Club, and probably the existence of your NAPITA Club, when I think about it, has to be kept secret. When you tell someone that you have a NAPITA Club, they always ask the same question:

"Am I in it?"

Having to answer that question is bad. I've been there. It's sort of a Hobson's Choice (no choice at all). How can you possibly answer "No" unless you are particularly cruel or heartless. Therefore, you have to answer "Yes" even if that's a lie. And now your NAPITA Club is ruined. 

So keep your NAPITA Club a secret. Let it please you secretly, inside your own head, as you consider the people you know. In. Out. In. In. In. In. Out. In.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

My Favorite Wine Book

"Adventures On The Wine Route" by Kermit Lynch.

This book was published in 1988. Christine and I are reading it aloud to one another (we just started). I've read it before, but I never tire of it.

Reading it does make me sad, though. What Kermit Lynch loves about wine is what I love about wine. And that has very little to do with the modern wine industry, or how I make my living in that industry.

Please don't misunderstand. I have a splendid job. I love the people I work with, and I love the work I do. I love the wines we make, and I enjoy them with friends and family.

But Kermit Lynch is purist questing Don Quixote-like for authenticity, soul and distinction. The wines he imports, and the stories he tells about the wines he imports, seduce me. Even when I taste them and find them strange or alarming (yes, that's happened), I understand he is offering me something rare and true.

From the dust jacket of my autographed copy:

"A riveting account of one man's pursuit of authenticity as well as excellence in wine." Robert M. Parker, Jr.

"Kermit Lynch has given wine new dimension for me." Alice Waters

"One of the pleasantest and truest books about wine I've ever read." M.F.K. Fisher

"No book on wine and the people who make it has ever been written that remotely resembles Adventures on the Wine Route." Richard Olney

Kermit Lynch subtitled his book "A Wine Buyer's Tour of France." And it is largely a travelogue, moving through France's wine regions, tasting and buying from the remarkably colorful characters he finds in France's vineyards and wine cellars.

Christine and I are reading this book aloud together because I want to share that urge for truth and authenticity with her. That urge that drew me into a life of wine. That urge that still lurks inside, hoping that I may find moments of such truth and authenticity not yet corrupted by shallowness, callowness, and crass commercialism.

Yes, I want to make a good living. But I'd appreciate a discovery, a momentary epiphany, a revelation of purity. Just one, in my wine work, before I'm done. Maybe it's too late, and I'm too corrupted, or I've learned too much to see beauty without filtering it through the curse of my knowledge and awareness.

But I can hope.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

Why Blame?

When I read the newspaper, I always find lots of blame. Either the writer, or the writer's subject, is explaining why blame should be affixed to somebody or something. Most of the time, I haven't developed a considered opinion about the issue inspiring blame, so I can't even tell if the blame is justified (if it ever is) or not.

I read recently that the heart of blame is "responding to another's blameworthiness by downgrading your relationship with them." When I think about it, that is exactly what I do. I don't believe that I ever affix blame in any public way. But if someone (or something) fails to live up to my hopes and expectations, I downgrade my hopes and expectations.

Disappoint me once, shame on you. Disappoint me twice, shame on me.

But I've never found affixing blame in any public way to be useful. It never seems to particularly change behaviors, or get me closer to what I want or need or care about. And that's my bottom line. I'll invest interest, energy and enthusiasm in things that get me closer (to what I want or need or care about). And I'll invest not one jot of attention or energy in things that can't get me closer.

Some who've worked with me will recognize my "How unfortunate" response when they've complained to me about someone or something. It didn't take them long to realize that my "How unfortunate" response meant I didn't care. Well, I cared that they were upset, but I had no intention of doing anything about the cause of their upset.

I wasn't going to join in any blaming. That's an energy sink-hole I'll always avoid.

But today I read that NOT blaming (when there is true blameworthiness) was the equivalent of forgiveness. That gave me pause. If I don't care, and therefore don't bother blaming, does that mean I'm forgiving? Is that the message I'm sending? Certainly not what I intend to send … I mean to say, "How unfortunate." Not "I forgive you."

So now I'm caught. I realize that when I don't bother to affix blame when it may be due, when I dodge the issue with my "How unfortunate," I could be perceived as adopting a superior attitude towards the person or situation in question.

But now, with this potential "I forgive you" assumption if I DON'T blame, I'm accepting a position of inferiority to the person or situation in question.

Now I have to think too hard. Harder than I want to think. I just want to preserve my energies for the things that matter to me! Why must I be forced to care about all this other crap!

I blame myself, ultimately. For worrying about things like this.

How unfortunate.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

The Perils of Text

One is so easily misunderstood in text. I pride myself on clear communication, and I'm often misunderstood. Misunderstood not in the meaning of the words I write, but in the intent behind them.

For example: I'm in San Francisco today (or on my way there or back) for meetings. I emailed my boss, Rich Hanen, to give him the details of my travel plans. I did this because he'd mentioned touching base over the weekend to see if we might find additional time to meet on other matters.

I thought I'd written a simple factual schedule type of message. The response I got was (paraphrasing), "I can tell you don't want to come, so don't." Uh, oh. Now, it's true that, early on, I expressed misgivings about so many of us attending one particular meeting. But I got over that last week. But somehow the intent of those two messages, out in the world of texty-email, got mixed up.

Which results in more emails and telephone messages to clarify the situation.

Years ago I knew a consultant, R.G. Hess (well, I still know him, but only in an occasional email sort of way). He tried to train us all to communicate verbally, and confirm in writing. Not that he always did a perfect job of that. And that's probably why he was always telling us: To teach us, and to remind himself. It's still good advice.

I once had supervisory responsibility for an employee who regularly angered others with her email messages. When confronted with this, in person, she would be shocked and (on one occasion) tearful. "That's not what I meant at all!" she would cry. And I would advise that she ought to communicate verbally and confirm in writing.

Now, in retrospect, I think perhaps she had some sort of passive-aggressive power-trip going on. But it did not serve her well, since she angered her fellow employees and irritated her supervisor (me) who had to help clean up the mess.

It is so easy to text or email. I can do it any time of the day or night. I don't have to engage in any preambles or social niceties. And therein lays the problem. Without adequate and appropriate foreplay, our overtures to others can be either entirely misconstrued or distressingly unsatisfying.

Lesson for the day (or, better, "lesson for the DAH") – Communicate verbally and confirm in writing.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

What DAH Does

I'm the marketing director for a wine production and sales company. That makes me the lead strategic planner (along with my boss, Rich Hanen) and storyteller (along with my colleague, Rusty Eddy).

In an increasingly crowded, busy and noisy world, my job is to differentiate the people and products with which I work, so that they stand out from the crowd, and rise above the bustle and noise.

I identify what stories we should tell, and how to tell them.

The company I work for is called Vintage New World. It is a division of a 110-year-old family firm called The Anderson & Middleton Company (based in Hoquiam, Washington).

Vintage New World is an international wine marketing company. We make and sell some of our own wines, and we buy inventory from other wineries whose brands we represent. We resell that wine to local wholesalers around the country (or in other countries).

We have regional sales managers who are responsible to help local wholesalers sell the right wines to the right accounts (shops, bars, hotels, restaurants, etc), in the right quantities and at the right prices. Those accounts sell our wines to consumers.

We do some consumer-direct sales for our Clayhouse Wines brand (tasting room in downtown Paso Robles, California, and a website), and for our Cadaretta brand (events and offerings by our team in Walla Walla, Washington, and a website). I manage the teams doing those consumer-direct sales, too.

I design new brands (from initial concept through finding wine and designing labels) and manage brand strategies (how much of each type of wine we should have made for us, plus where and how we’re going to sell that wine). I identify, refine and communicate the “sticky” stories about each winery and wine … the stories that will help people remember those wines and want to purchase them. I manage designers who are working on labels and maps and videos and brochures and websites.

I talk on the phone a lot. I type on my laptop a lot. And I think about wine a lot. And how to tell a sticky story.

I live in San Luis Obispo, California (about 30 minutes south of our Clayhouse Wines location in Paso Robles) with my wife, Christine. We live in a 1,950 square foot condo on the side of Terrace Hill, overlooking the city. Outside our back door is the public open space of the hill, so we feel as if we're on the edge, between town and country. The Pacific Ocean is about a ten minute drive. Four hours north is San Francisco. Four hours south is Los Angeles.

I've lived in San Luis Obispo for about six months. We're still settling in. I work from home (with travel to meetings and other market areas). So I'm home a lot. I don't go out as much as I did when we lived in Mendocino County, California. I was more socially engaged there. I'm more work engaged in SLO (as we call San Luis Obispo).

I'm on a hiatus from performing arts, the other major pursuit of my life. I haven't yet invested the energy or time necessary to plug into local theater or music. I bought a ukulele, but I need to schedule regular practice time.

I write two blog-posts each weekday, one personal and one professional. Disciplining myself to coming up with approximately 1,000 written words each day makes me happy.

I've got a local dentist now. That's good. Next up: A SLO doctor. Then maybe some community group. And the roots begin to spread.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

Memorable Houston's Pasadena

On our way to a wine tasting in Pasadena earlier this week, Christine and DAH stopped for an early lunch at the Pasadena Houston's.

Houston's Restaurant
(626) 577-6001
320 S Arroyo Pkwy
Pasadena, CA 91105

Houston's is part of the Hillstone Restaurant Group. Hillstone's wine country version of Houston's, called the Rutherford Grill (guess where it is) is a popular lunch and dinner spot for winemakers and the wine trade in the Napa Valley.

DAH had just been thinking about Houston's, because Rich Hanen and he had seen one across the street, San Francisco's Embarcadero, when dining at Epic Roasthouse a few weeks ago. We had both agreed at that time that it was a really well-executed concept restaurant.

Houston's Restaurants generally have a rich, chophouse ambiance. A little dark. Lots of booths. Skilled, smooth staff, all in black. A mix of tony urban club and Western modern. I'm pretty used to them being focused on meats, from the grill or the rotisserie.

But this Pasadena Houston's through us a curve: It had a sushi theme. Well, there was still plenty of meat available on the menu, but sushi and fresh seafood played a strong role. As we looked over the menu, our waiter tempted us with a roast artichoke as an appetizer. Knowing I love artichoke, Christine gave me a smile, and we said, "Yes, please!"

The grilled artichoke arrived, cut in half, with a salty herbal crust and an aioli dipping sauce. The artichoke was wonderful. It had clearly been par-cooked then finished on the grill. A delightful start to our meal.

We both ordered the California Sushi Salad. Which sounds odd, but wasn't. Seven pieces of really fine sushi roll, three different types, on each plate. Alongside a salad of cucumber, burdock, avocado, mango, red onion, and roasted red pepper, finished with a sweet Miso dressing.

Both the sushi and the salad were delightful. A perfect fresh but filling lunch. Our waiter, hostess, and the serving team (they had a team service approach), were perfectly attentive, but not intrusive. My favorite moment: Just when I was thinking, at the end of the meal, how I'd like to get a little more coffee, the waiter appeared with a fresh cup and whisked away my cooling nearly empty first cup. Very smooth.

It was a memorable meal, and we look forward to Houston's again.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com

I Love L.A.

I'm just back from Los Angeles. It's about a three-and-a-half hour drive from San Luis Obispo. And a beautiful drive, actually. Through coastal hills and along the seaside past Santa Barbara. As a Highway 101-Corridor-Dweller from NorCal, I am happy to discover the fun of occupying this SoCal part of that highway corridor.

Driving the freeways of L.A. with Christine ably navigating, I couldn't stop playing Randy Newman's "I Love L.A." in my head. It's an odd song, because it seems to both praise and criticize Los Angeles. In a 2001 interview, Mr. Newman said this of his song: "There's some kind of ignorance L.A. has that I'm proud of. The open car and the redhead, the Beach Boys … that sounds 'really' good to me."

"I Love L.A." from Mr. Newman's 1983 album "Trouble In Paradise" has a mordantly post-modern cynicism that turns in on itself and comes out shiny (yes, I actually made up that sentence in my own head).

Hate New York City
It's cold and it's damp
And all the people dressed like monkeys
Let's leave Chicago to the Eskimos
That town's a little bit too rugged
For you and me, babe

Rollin' down Imperial Highway
With a big nasty redhead at my side
Santa Ana winds blowin' hot from the north
And we was born to ride
Roll down the window, put down the top
Crank up the Beach Boys, baby
Don't let the music stop
We're gonna ride it 'til we just can't ride it no more
From the South Bay to the Valley
From the West Side to the East Side
Everybody's very happy
'Cause the sun is shining all the time
Looks like another perfect day
I love L.A. (We love it)
I love L.A. (We love it)

Look at that mountain
Look at those trees
Look at that bum over there, man
He's down on his knees
Look at these women
There ain't nothin' like 'em nowhere
Century Boulevard (We love it)
Victory Boulevard (We love it)
Santa Monica Boulevard (We love it)
Sixth Street (We love it, we love it, we love it)
We love L.A.

Somehow, "I Love L.A." sounds like a twisted riff on two songs made famous by Frank Sinatra, sung about a city on the other coast of the United States:

"New York, New York" … If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere … I'll make a brand new start of it, in old New York …

"The Lady Is A Tramp" … She loves the free, fresh wind in her hair, life without care. She's broke, that's OK … She hates California, its cold and its damp. That's why the lady is a tramp.

It's a kind of "cool" or (word-of-the-day warning) "sprezzatura" … a kind of defensive irony, disguising what one really desires behind a mask of nonchalance.

I love sprezzatura, and I love L.A.

DAH is David Anthony Hance at www.DAHplaytime.com and www.VintageNewWorld.com