I’m always struck by how easily and
naturally people come together in this town and by how convivial
McMinnville is. There are nights when the whole downtown area feels like
a party that is evolving before your eyes. It has something to do with
the café society that is created by wine bars and restaurants and coffee
shops in close proximity, but more than anything, it has to do with the
people who live and work here, mixing easily with the visitors who pass
through town.
Last Friday afternoon, I went downtown.
There
had been a minor equipment failure that morning at
Thistle that closed the
restaurant for the night, and consequently, I found the whole crew –
chef Eric Bechard, sous chef Fritz, hostess/server Emily Howard and
bartender Katie Koenig – parked at the bar of the
R. Stuart and Co. Wine Bar,
where they had been patiently working their way through the entire wine
menu since lunchtime. When I arrived they were lighting into glasses of
Riesling, and I countered – cleverly, I think -- with a big glass of
2005 3 Clowns, a blend of cabernet sauvignon and merlot.
Emily
raised her index finger to her upper lip and showed off a handlebar
moustache tattoo on the inside of the finger. Then Katie did the same,
and so did Eric (Fritz left). They had all had their fingers tattooed
with moustaches. So I bought their next round of Rieslings, figuring
that new finger tattoos always call for a celebration.
At
3:45, local real estate whiz Gene Zinda arrived to convene the weekly
meeting of the Safety Committee, a group of dedicated citizens who come
to the Wine Bar to discuss current events and where they want to have
dinner that night. Nicole poured him a glass of Pinot Gris and despite
my not having a finger tattoo, Gene bought me a glass of the ’07
Autograph Pinot Noir that has found its way into my heart over several
months of attending meetings of the Safety Committee. We toasted the
real estate market and wished it would go up.
Emily
and Katie went off to wash their moustaches, and Eric and I decided to
hit the streets in search of absinthe, the green French liqueur that was
once banned in the U.S. “You know, I love this town,” he said as we
walked down Third Street. “It has such an amazing spirit of
cooperation.” When we walked into
La Rambla, Jerry Naylor – who
years ago succeeded Buddy Holly as lead singer of The Crickets – was at
a table with Stan Perkins, whose father Carl wrote the rockabilly
classic, “Blue Suede Shoes,” and plays a mean slide guitar himself. At
the bar were Patti Webb, longtime Manager of the McMinnville Downtown
Association, and her friend Jule Gradek, pounding Cosmos.
The
absinthe was green and fiery and tasted of licorice. We drank it with
Spanish meatballs and skewers of tri-tip steak, and Eric talked about
the recent
article about Thistle in the New York Times, and how his vision of
creating a local restaurant that serves locally sourced food is coming
to fruition. I think we toasted his success, but my memory was getting
hazy by that point.
When we arrived back at R. Stuart
& Co. an hour or so later, the Safety Committee was just about to
vote on where to have dinner. The place was filling up, and servers
Nicole and Rose were dishing up crabcakes and glasses of Big Fire Dry
Rosé. Nicole poured Eric and me a taste of Vin Tardive, a late harvest
dessert wine made from pinot gris. Delicious, and a fine chaser to
absinthe.
The night was young and fraught with
possibilities.
.jpg "Who's on Third? 2010")
Last Friday afternoon, I went downtown.