Beazley’s View
A weblog with Napa’s most experienced innkeepers’ unique view of the Napa Valley

We discovered years ago that “Travel” changes more than just your view. By getting away, out of one’s personal rut, one uses brain cells, problem solving skills and muscles gone flabby.  You return to your “old life” with a whole set of new habits and attitudes.

Carol and I just got back from an epic vacation in England and Italy as a celebration of our 35th anniversary. We were first hosted by a dear friend in southern England,  introduced to Rome, cruised to Pompeii, Sicily, Corfu, Dubrovnik, Hvar and dropped off in Venice. This epic journey over three and a half weeks taught us more than mere the geography; it was more a lesson in living.

We are able to get away because we have excellent staff and family who will take care of you, our guests. Travel is how we got into the B&B business. It continues to be both our passion and our teacher.

I learned a deep and abiding respect for the work that a good Travel Agent does by planning all aspects of the trip my self. Although it wasn’t the first international vacation we have taken, it was one of the most complicated. There were lots of “firsts” coupled with plenty of connections and a myriad of important details.
Uncharacteristically I started literally MONTHS before the trip to plan the 5 “Ws” and the “H:” Where, When, What, Why, Who and How. Some of the questions were easily answered. Like Why: Too many anniversaries have been spent working.  I knew I wanted this VERY special anniversary vacation to be as unforgettable as our life together.
This helped with the Where. We simply could NOT go to Europe without staying with our dear Lynne in England.  And using London’s Heathrow for our arrival and departure allowed us to burn traveler miles, not dollars.

Although we had been to Italy twice before, we’d never been to Rome. We love to walk and while Rome is a major European city, it is entirely walk able. From our Hotel San Francesco in the Trastevere neighborhood we were within an short walk of the landmarks of the entire ancient city. Rome is absolutely steeped in history and crammed with incredible architecture.
We had also never been on a cruise. The idea of sailing into the sunset with three to four thousand strangers in a floating hotel just never appealed. But the Windstar Line is more like the Beazley House: Small and Special. Our ship, the “Windsurf” had just 150 staterooms accommodating some 300 pampered passengers. And it had SAILS!
“When” had been a crucial component of our planning. We’re used to a mild NORTHERN California climate, so visiting Rome and southern Italy in the heat of summer was out. In addition, we hate to be away from the inn in busy months, so mid May to early June was perfect. We weren’t disappointed, the Roman weather was delightful.
We learned the true meaning of the old saying: “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” To avoid the heat of the day savvy Romans indulge in a long, luscious lunch, take a two to three hour “nap,”and go back out for the evening. We quickly adopted this approach, taking advantage of streets cool and un-crowded. We had lunch alongside Romans in tiny Trattorias eating wonderful fresh salads, grilled veggies, real Buffalo milk mozzarella and saved our wine for dinner. Refreshed and full, we would retire to our hotel room and sleep like kittens.

Around 6 p.m. we would arise, and prepare to explore Rome at night. Dinner was never before 8:30 and frequently at 9 p.m. The evenings were balmy and the Trastevere piazzas and neighborhoods full of strolling lovers, families and friends. We ate fresh, seasonal cuisine splitting dishes and sampling the lovely Italian Pinot Grigios.

We soon discovered we could stroll along the Tiber River on broad cobbled ways free of traffic and pedestrians. we made better time than taking direct routes described in our guidebook because we were NOT pausing to cross busy streets, dodging suicide drivers and  not getting LOST.

The Windsurf was a very good first cruise. The service was excellent, the ship beautiful, but the stops were way too short at each port and Carol and I may just not be cut out for the “cruise culture.” We met some lovely people who became “instant friends.” But it became clear the ship’s routine revolved around drinking, lounging, drinking, eating and watching others drinking, lounging and eating. The “shore excursions” were extra $$$$$ but they did take us places we would have otherwise missed. If viewed as a “first look” at these wonderful places, the cruise was a perfect fit.

After nearly 28 years hosting guests I’ve observed things about my fellow American travelers.

We may scale back or postpone or re-think our travel plans, but we’re GOING.

The Economy may be in the toilet. The Automakers may be about to declare bankruptcy

and the Stock Market gyrating like a crack-addled squirrel, but we a taking that trip.

Honeymoons are still happening. Birthdays, the REALLY big birthdays, are still being celebrated.

Anniversaries are continuing to be marked as the milestones of our lives.

Family members, separated by too much absence and distance are putting

their reunions off no longer. In other words, there are too manyIMPORTANT reasons we MUST travel.

After all, what’s more important than LOVE to the honeymooners; perhaps the memories

they are making as they begin their new lives.

How many times will you turn 21, 30, 40, 50, 60, 70? The answer, each time, is just ONCE.

In our hectic lives what becomes of those love affairs where the flames of romance

are allowed to die for want of the sparks struck on that Anniversary get-away?

Even the best marriage needs to be nurtured.

Even with email, Twitter, Facebook, and the telephone you can’t really know what’s happening

in your loved one’s life without the warmth of a hug.

Sure we’re looking for “the best deal”. We may have to pack out own lunch to survive on today’s peanut’s only airlines.

We’ll be renting the SUB compact this trip. But we’re going.

If we have to stay with friends or, god forbid, relatives to fill the void in our lodging budget,

well we SHOULD be seeing them…been too long…God, they’re looking old!

The truth is if we just stay home, life will pass us by.

TIME travels on with us or without us.

So we just go.

This never ceases to amaze me. Here we are with literally thousands of guests we need to send to restaurants and nearly no one has figured it might be a good idea if we had tried their cuisine.

Believe me, if I could find a source of potential guests to our inn like WE represent to the restaurants we would name future Grandchildren after them!!! We would CERTAINLY host them so they could experience a magical a night at the Beazley House.

So it was with the wonder of a new born duck that we sat down at Neela’s just opened at 975 Clinton (at Main Street) in old town Napa.
We were seated with a couple from the Napa wine industry and the most extraordinary thing happened: we were treated like honored guests. And we were ACTUALLY fed; seemingly almost everything the restaurant offers.

What a concept!

First the Napa Valley Wine Train, now Neela’s, I think restaurateurs are finally getting it.

The courses were as varied as is the contemporary Indian cuisine. Awaiting us on the table was Lentil Pappadums (read firery crackers)  accompanied by Walnut-yogurt, mango & pumpkin-tomato chutneys. An appetizer of endive  beet cups began the meal marathon. Carol was delighted (I don’t eat beets, she got two). Next came deep fried Jhinga Samosas, succulent shrimp turnovers with potatoes & hot mango pickle. Sev Puri, wheat crackers, potatoes, onions contrasting chutneys and a dusting of Sev, crisp chick pea flour noodle followed. All of these were complimented by a lovely local Napa Valley white wine suggested by our newest friends. We bought a Zin also from the Napa Valley. The Haazari, or main presentations came next. Meen Moili, Kerala fish curry with basmati rice, shredded brussel sprouts and lentil pappadums was followed by Makhni Tikka, a chicken dish in a tomato butter sauce with onion naan and “kachumber, “a chopped salad of cucumbers, tomatoes and red onions. Boti Kababs, boneless lamb  tenders marinated with papaya, tomato, yogurt. Then Palak Paneer, pureer spinach and cumin and paneer cubes. Gobi Savzi, cauliflower with ginger, chillis, tomato & coriander, Poriyal, hyderabadi green beens with kari leaves & coconut. All of these delights were joined by Basmati Rise with cumin seeds and garlis and glain naans (the Indian equivalent of Mexican sopapillas.  Desserts finished this perfect meal Mitha, a flourless cayenne and chocolate cake with apricot cream and Gaijar Ka Halwa, a “carrot pudding” with the consistency of shifting sands, but the flavor of a raisins, almonds and cardamon,  and, of course, topped with whipped cream..

The final, final taste was a cup of delicious coffee (decaf). Like the rest of the meal it was heaven.

We WILL be sending our guests to this flavorful trip to India. THEIR experiences will determine whether we were simply enchanted by a culinary angel or whether Neela’s truly is Nirvana.

Napa Valley: A Train runs through it.

When Vincent DeDomenico, inventor of Rice-A-Roni, retired he moved to Napa Valley with a dream.

He would run a vintage train from Napa to St. Helena, take tourists out of their cars, feed ‘em gourmet meals and drive them to the wineries in shuttles. It was a bold plan, green before it’s time and he was sure locals and vintners alike would love it.

He was wrong.

His dream soon turned into a nightmare.

Vintners didn’t see it as a better way to move tourists, but extortion. Track side property owners just saw train noise and thought they would be cut off by unguarded railroad crossings. The entire town of St. Helena greeted the Wine Train as if it was the “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.”

That’s when the lawsuits started, 20 years ago. They are still fighting.

Things have changed. Mr. D and his wife are dead, but the Wine Train is STILL going. Only now with the economy in the tank, St. Helena choked with traffic and merchants starving, suddenly the Wine Train seems like a good idea.

http://www.naparegister.com/articles/2009/05/05/news/local/doc49ffbc3bcb630333889787.txt

And the original plan is working: You can board the train in Napa and have a lovely lunch, passing by vineyards on your way up valley. After lunch you depart the train and are whisked to private tastings at Raymond Vineyards and ZD Wines and return to the station in Napa.

While not cheap at $368, the experience is absolutely unique. Where else in America can you park your car, travel through paradise while eating gourmet fare in a 100 year old Pullman car and drink fabulous wine?

Only in Napa Valley.

The Beazley House has been sending guests on the Wine Train since it began. Lunches cost two people $188 for a three-course feast, including tax, tip and train ride.  Dinners are just $198 for a four-course meal. And while it gets dark by the time you’re back in Napa, there’s nothing as romantic as a gently rolling restaurant bathed in golden light. We constantly hear super reports on the food, the service and the over all experience.

It is a shame that Mr. and Mrs. DiDomenico didn’t live to see it, but some ideas are just too good to die.

The Beazley House has always been a place where ALL guests are EQUALLY welcome.

Those thousands of you who we have had the privildge of hosting for our nearly 28 years know this. You know the Beazley House is a place where love is not just found, but made. Vows are shared, bonds renewed, promises made and kept, by you and us.

Over the years marriages and love affairs  have been saved or restored. Lovers have escaped from busy lives where their affections have been pushed aside by the pressures of everyday existence. We are a “body shop” of sorts: dented, banged up relationships are repaired and re-tooled. The lovers do the work, we just supply the tools and the place.

Recently the Napa City Council, by failing to voice an opinion on the matter of the rights of all people to marry,  appeared to portray our community as unwelcoming to gays and the LGTB community. This could have not been further from the truth nor more unfortunate in its timing.

Because we have lived in Napa for nearly 28 years we know all of the Napa Council members and our community very, very well.  NONE of our council members believes that Proposition 8 was a good idea, nor do they support the notions it represents. They also, obviously, have NO idea that by NOT passing Councilman Mark Van Gorder’s resolution that they were sending  a symbolic message of intolerance.

Typical of small town politicians, they were (and are) clueless of the nature of public relations and communication. I might add that they seem to think that by remaining silent, they are hoping their blunder will be forgotten.  It shouldn’t and won’t.

The reality of the matter is that voters in the City of Napa and Napa County voted 54% AGAINST Prop 8!

We are a very open, diverse and accepting community which is reflected in our daily welcoming of people of all backgrounds and beliefs.

The Beazley House, the Beazley family and staff have been dedicated to hosting ALL lovers for nearly 28 years.

We not about to let the intolerance of a few dictate the rights of any of our guests.

Because symbols are important, we will be flying the Rainbow flag of Equality so ALL who come to our inn will know they are welcome.

My sincere hope is that my relatives in North Dakota don’t read this until their snow stops and the ice dams flooding Bismarck and Mandan wash away before their home does.

It’s just too cruel for them, and the rest of the U.S., to be taunted by our California Spring. If our Napa Valley weather were a woman she would be arrested for indecent exposure.

Today was such a day. The temperature was a balmy 75 degrees, in the shade. Bathed in bright sunshine it seemed even warmer. Long sleeves were out of the question. Shoes and socks were grudgingly borne only because sandals in March are just wrong.

It was too fine a day to waste on mere work. A compromise had to be struck. We would visit “Up Valley” wineries to prove we actually were still alive. We would call it work: PUBLIC RELATIONS.

Weeks ago an Angel from Turnbull Wine Cellars delivered unto us a wonderful bottle of 2005 Syrah. It was a little bit of heaven in a bottle and lured us back to its home as salmon to spawn. Unlike the disappearing salmon, we faced no obstacles on our journey to the source of this magic elixir.

Turnbull is easily found on Highway 29 just north of the Oakville Crossroad and in marvelous March there is no traffic. We were there before our Calvinist instincts even knew we left work in Napa.

Warmly greeted by Dennis Fagundes and our neighbor’s son-in-law, we were soon washing away our guilt with luscious wines, full bodied and with great legs. Honest, those ARE wine terms. And they TASTE good.

The winery was dressed in Spring color: pansies, crabapple blossoms, even fragrant wisteria. If heaven has wineries, this is what they look and smell like. A quick tour of the standing fine photography exhibit, “Father and Son – The Photography of Edward and Brett Weston” and we were on our way.

It had literally been YEARS since we had been to Charles Krug, Napa Valley’s FIRST winery.

Established in 1861 by a Prussian immigrant, Charles Krug is owned and operated by the Peter Mondavi Family. Mr. Mondavi had paid us a visit a few years ago and we felt like we had been in the company of legend.

We just missed him, we were told. Even though he is now over 94 years old he goes to the winery every day and is said to drive his assistants crazy with his work load.

The moment we walked into the tasting room we were welcomed by Gary Kozel who remarked that he had just posted the article from the Wall Street Journal in which we were just quoted. Our heads nearly exploding, we were quickly led to the tasting bar. There we tasted wine like liquid sunshine, refined and bottled in vintage years.

Long gone are the days when “Charles Krug” was synonymous with cheap jug wine. Maybe it was because Peter had finally recovered from the infamous family feud with his older, perhaps more famous brother Robert. Probably it is because fine wine runs deep in his three generations of Mondavi family. It is certainly because millions of dollars have been invested in the landmark winery to produce some of the finest wines in the Napa Valley.

Over our final glass of Krug’s Zinfandel Port we vowed: every Friday from now on we will go out into this Paradise which is our Napa Valley and report back to you what we have found.

It is a dirty, nasty job, but you, dear guests are worth it.

It has taken a non-Journalist to report a fact of modern life: Today’s T.V. Economic Reporters are in fact just Cable T.V. Media whores. Okay that’s unkind to prostitutes. I apologize. They are unrepentant corporate shills.

And to add irony to tragedy, it was The Daily Show’s Jon Stewart who blew the whistle!

That it was  Stewart who broke the story should not come as a surprise, since a growing number of people get  their news from this comedian turned social activist. What is shocking is that someone had to actually point out the obvious: Wall Street and the Stock Market ARE NOT WHAT WE SHOULD BE USING AS A GUIDE TO OUR ECONOMIC WELL BEING.

Wall Street is just one trading center in this vast United States and the Stock Market is a place where the greedy gamble other people’s money.

These are MARKET PLACES. It’s where prices go up and down depending on factors as fickle as the whiff of rumor.  Herds of Wildabeasts are more stable.

If you don’t have your savings tied up in Stocks and junk bonds (and by now you shouldn’t or you’ve already lost your savings) then the daily gyrations of the “Stock Market” are about as relavent to you as Pork Belly futures.

The PANIC was brought on by the greedy cockroaches’s schemes suddenly exposed to public scrutiny. Their practices and crimes are the cause of  the “Economic crisis” WE are paying for. The sooner we wake up to the facts that greed and criminal behavior are no substitute for prudent economic judgment, the sooner we will recover from this mess.

When we start to insist that Journalists replace Cable T.V. pundits reporting the major story of our times: The Economy, we will begin to see what we really need to do to quell the PANIC.

Perhaps then we will insist that Regulators regulate not participate. That Bankers learn it is better to GIVE than receive. And our American auto industry executives produce cars we might actually want to buy.

In the mean time, I know a lovely Bed and Breakfast where you can get a great deal (up to 50% off) , drink wonderful wine and make, mad passionate love until they all come to their senses.

Across much of our weary nation, March is the dead of winter. Its letters could stand for weather that’s Miserable, Aggravating, Raw, Cold, Harsh. And it signals that there are at least 60 more days of the same. 

Not here.

March in the Napa Valley (Frog's Leap Winery) - Photo by Jim Beazley

In the Napa Valley March is when SPRING is just reaching her teens, having been born in late January and showing great promise in February. If we were to spell out what MARCH means to a visitor making her acquaintance in Napa it would go like this:

M could stand for MUSTARD, that bright yellow and green carpet of color between row upon row of black, knurled grapevines. We have even invented an entire Festival to celebrate its beauty. And in MARCH, the Mustard Festival is in full swing.

A could stand for AWESOME, not only is the weather usually sunny and crisp, but the deals like up to 50% off of our regular base rates mid week are awe inspiring.

R could stand for REJUVINATING, that’s just what a couple of days away from the Panic that’s replaced our daily newscasts would be. The sky is NOT falling here, just the occasional star.

C could stand for CALMING, that’s the effect a few days will have when the toughest decision is breakfast in bed, a soothing massage or a lingering soak to begin another perfect Napa Valley day.

H could stand for HAPPY, which is how you’ll feel when you realize you’ve gotten a great deal to spend precious time in a place where great wine accompanies good food and produces glorious memories.

Anyway you spell it MARCH is a wonderful time to visit the Beazley House. We’ll re-introduce you to each other and to a place that’s absolutely magical, dressed in more shades of green than an Irish parade.

You’ll be charmed.         

Sometimes we just have to stop and take stock. See where we are. Ask ourselves: “What now?”

One summer Carol and I decided we would pack up the family (the WHOLE family) including my aged parents, rent an RV and go to Yellowstone National Park.

The kids were 9, 7 and 4 years old and my parents in their very late 60s. They were unwell, just how ill we would find out on this trip. We had been married but a few years.

The RV was a “cab-over” affair that promised self contained independence…a real break from our Reno bound existence. The first night on the road, when the water hookup sprayed like a Roman fountain instead of our only water supply was only the beginning of our troubles.

The promised beds which could sleep 9 must have meant 9 pygmies or hamsters, because it certainly didn’t mean 4 adults and 3 children. And the only “real” bed when folded out blocked the only very really needed toilet. This same bed was to hold the same folks who REALLY needed the toilet every night, frequently.

The other “bed,” wedged above the truck’s cab, was more like a burial shelf in a medieval church crypt. The two inch foam pad assured there was not quite enough room to lie on your side, but molded to your sweating body as you lay corpse-like on your back.

The children were placed on the roof in bundles of clothes and sleeping bags which weighted them down as much to keep them from rolling off as to insulate them from the Nevada desert cold. They loved it.

And this was the FIRST night.

Morning brought no showers, nor any running water to either wash dishes or flush the only toilet. It did bring bacon and eggs, pancakes and the naive hope things would be better in Yellowstone.

Long miles of open, empty road at 8 miles per gallon at a top speed of 60 mph caused a kind of “RV Cabin fever” still seared on all our collective memories.

It was in this agitated state of pent up energy that we arrived (late) to the Fish Bed Camp Ground at the edge of Yellowstone. Twelve hours on the road had mellowed our view of multi-generational family vacations and the kids JUST WANTED OUT.

After a quick dinner I agreed to take the children to a meadow we had passed on the way into camp. It being early June, it was still quite light at 8:30 that evening.

We planned to join my wife and parents at the campground’s fire circle after our hike to the meadow. We hoped to see deer, or maybe even an elk.

The light in the thick forest was fading much faster than our enthusiasm to reach the meadow. And when the meadow proved to be as empty as a church on Monday we tucked back into the deepening woods.

Now the only light was provided by our small flashlight and it cast a flat pall which was swallowed by the crowded trees. Stumbling over fallen lodge pole pines we quickly lost the trail and became utterly, hopelessly lost.

This was when that little voice in my head asked, “What now?”

The other little voices clinging to my hands and coat asked other, urgent questions.

When are we going to get back? Why is it so dark? Aren’t we going back to Mommy? What about the bears?

That last question played in my own head, accompanied by the memory of the sign in the camp office which read: “No sleeping in tents, on the ground or soft-sided campers. This is BEAR COUNTRY.”

One thing was sure. We weren’t going to find our way back before dawn.

That meant we had to stop, take stock and prepare to spend the night in the woods.

A fire was out, I hadn’t bothered to bring matches, nor any survival gear for that matter. We would just have to huddle together for warmth on the cold ground.

We had no food, nor any food smells about us so bears were a much smaller threat than hypothermia.

As we lay on the forest floor that very, very long and cold early summer night I thought how foolish I had been to tamp off into the woods at dusk. And I heard the sounds of frogs and crickets in the meadow alternated by sirens of those looking for us.

I deeply hoped it would not rain. I didn’t know then that precipitation could have been deadly.

That night was the longest of my life. Weighted down by my sleeping children, I was punished as much by my guilt as by the hard ground.

Dawn came grudgingly grey and cold with a faint light too dim to find the trail.

The only direction left was the meadow, now white with frost, but at least open. If we couldn’t find our way, searchers could at least find us.

The meadow was a cruel obstacle course of snaking stream, and open ponds of black water. Our pant legs froze stiff to our knees.

But all night I had heard another sound: cars on a distant highway. And at a far, far end of this frozen meadow I saw at once our distant deliverance: the road we had driven in on.

The walk to that asphalt salvation was as cold and frustrating as losing our way was simple. Tall grass hid water puddled and deeper. Detours were as frequent as tears.

Finally we mounted the road and flagged down a passing camper. A hurried explanation of our plight delivered us back to camp and a very worried mom and grandparents.

We were exhausted, our toes and fingers burned from the cold but we were otherwise unhurt.

There had been 50 rescuers set to search for us later with the sun rise.

We never rented an RV again, but that morning it sure felt like home.

Making New Year’s Resolutions is something like promising to be good to Mom: you both know it probably won’t happen, but at the time you mean it  and she will always forgive you anyway.

One can be “casual” about New Year’s Resolutions, unless you really NEED to resolve to do something better. Like LIVE.

Allow me to make some suggestions about these types of resolutions. If I sound like your mom, forgive me…we BOTH have your best interests at heart.

Think of the words “Live Better.” What would help you to Live Better?

Besides the obvious, which I want to get out of your mind!,  it ain’t a billion dollar bailout from Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson. He’s nearly out of money and time and besides if you go bankrupt he doesn’t care. Nor does money ALWAYS make you happy. No, it’s more fundamental than just money: it’s “LOVE.”

Look at Britney Spears.

I’ll bet poor Britney would give her fortune to find the kind of love you enjoy with your partner. The peace, passion, trust and shared future you enjoy she may never find…and she knows it.

So you have this treasured “LOVE,” what are you going to do this next year to nurture and celebrate it?

Here’s where the Beazley House comes in. Think of us as the answer to that most important resolution:  Live Better. To Live Better, you’ve got to Love Better.

For you romatically challenged men, think of it like this, you schedule oil changes for your car, right?  Well, your relationship needs periodic maintenance too.

The everyday stress in to your life is like the stress stop & go driving puts your car’s engine. Stress just grinds relationships down.

Give us two or three nights at the Beazley House and we’ll have your relationship purring like a well-tuned Ferrari…for the price of a Pinto.

Women understand these things instinctively.

That’s why THEY fill in our calendars.

And it’s why the Beazley House is offering some of the best package prices ever. Women get it.

They are very good at making New Year’s Resolutions.

For BOTH of you.