Driving north over the Golden Gate Bridge one freezing morning last summer, thick fog enveloping the car like a tenacious ghost, it was difficult to imagine this journey ending where it would. I had been dreaming for months of neat rows of vines, green, topped by an expansive sky, blue, culminating in delicious glasses, red and white, all stamped with those enchanting North California appellations — creeks and valleys overflowing with Petit Syrahs and Pinot Noirs. Was it even possible that the fabled wine country was within reach?

The pretty bay of Sausalito flashed by, streaks of blue leavening the heavy sky. Lush Marin County sprawled to the left, the ancient redwoods of Muir Woods beckoning just beyond. The Pacific Coast, windy and hauntingly beautiful in a grave, elegiac way, formed the western border of the Sonoma County, touching it with a chilly hand every morning and evening. But as the highway snaked through historic Spanish Mission towns, the valleys, rivers and vineyards coming into view under a warming sun, it soon felt like a different country altogether.

Deciding between Napa and Sonoma had been easy, for we had heard how crowded and commercial parts of Napa had become, and how relaxed and authentic Sonoma still was. Even so, we craved an experience off the well-trampled tourist track, always a hard trick to master as a foreigner. Hundreds of wineries, dozens of hotels: where to begin?

For Bay Area locals, it’s common to drive up for a leisurely lunch, take in a winery or two and head back home before sunset. But we did not want to hire a car, acclimatise to driving on the opposite side of the road or finding our way; nor did we want to drive after wine-tasting. Luckily, this worked out in our favour.

Earlier in the summer, I had read the story of the inventive California cuisine at Charlie Parker’s renowned Dry Creek Kitchen (DCK), and its home, the Hotel Healdsburg. Although Healdsburg is 30 minutes north of Sonoma proper, a happy remove from the regular wine crowds, the success of DCK brought the town into an epicurean spotlight — and left a wave of fine restaurant openings in its wake. The best part was that all this local goodness was set right on the Spanish-style town square. A place where you could be nourished like kings and still walk everywhere? It sounded perfect.

Arriving in time for our lunch reservation at Willi’s Seafood and Raw Bar, our glasses of Kistler Chardonnay were a revelation, crisp and flavourful. A plate of six briny oysters, each from a different State, set us on course. Next up, three small plates redolent of sea, salt, surf: a tart wild salmon ceviche with salty oyster crackers, warm Maine lobsters in a soft roll smothered in garlic butter, jumbo prawns pan fried with garlic and spring onions. For dessert — more wine, of course. It was a strong, heady, dizzying combination. In this paradise of plenty, I suspect Willi’s Seafood is at the top of the treasure heap.

After lunch, we strolled around the quaint plaza, set around a park of tall trees, a hint of cool in the luminous light dappling the leaves. Many wineries have tasting rooms right here, so you can sample away without ever getting into a car. There are boutiques, art galleries, independent bookstores, antique shops aplenty. At night, the industry locals unwind at the many restaurants and bars — tasting room guides and waitresses, winemakers and farmers, restaurant owners and suppliers, all specialists in the field. It is an elevated art and science, oenology, and it inspires a kind of reverence in its followers here.

A bracing macchiato and one of the delicious sticky buns from Downtown Bakery and Creamery was almost enough to bring us down to earth, so we headed back to our hotel with ambitious plans of a long nap. As it turned out, Hotel Healdsburg was like the inviting living room of a sophisticated, well-travelled friend: North California-style personified. Spacious rooms, opulent beds, slatted wooden doors to private balconies and natural light everywhere.

Later, we had dinner at Barndiva, a locavore utopia with a rustic red barn set in a gorgeous courtyard. Make it a point to ask the waitstaff here for recommendations: they are all wine and food nerds who live and breathe the good stuff. Ours directed us towards the sliced raw Yellowfin tuna, plated Japanese-style with sticky rice, soy, avocado, watermelon and pickled Fresno chilli; a filet mignon with lobster potato puree and summer green beans; a ‘crispy young chicken’ with divinely nutty Chanterelle mushrooms, roasted artichoke, pancetta and a ricotta and egg ravioli. Chêvre croquettes drizzled with wildflower honey and lavender had set a sweet introduction to this cornucopia of pleasures. Seasonal and sustainable agriculture is the core of the region’s farm-to-table movement, and the locals take pride in the diversity of produce borne by the fertile topography.

The next morning, we had arranged a four-hour vineyard drive through Terrific Tours. Known for their group tours from the Bay Area, they also do pick-ups within wine country for private tours — and in our case, they even agreed to deliver us back to San Francisco at no extra cost.

A guided tour turned out to be the ultimate way to handpick a path through three major appellations, the Russian River, Alexander and Dry Creek Valleys. As we had requested, our guide had tailored a sampling of boutique and off-the-radar wineries. We drove through gently winding crests and valleys, past slow-moving rivers and great moody pines. Out there among the vines, the concepts that seem so esoteric to a city-dweller start to make perfect sense. And if you’re not a wine-drinker, there is great pleasure to be found in the landscape alone, and many alternative sports to pursue — kayaking, canoeing, hiking, golfing, fishing, hot-air ballooning, horseback riding...

For wine enthusiasts, the pleasure is all in the tastings. The family-run Russian Hill Estate, a stately property with a sylvan view, had a selection of such excellence that we promptly purchased three bottles at the late hour of 11:30am. We had made an early-morning stop at Oakland Grocery, a pure treat of a gourmet food store stacked with the artisanal products California does so winningly — divine small-batch chocolates, salted almond caramel corn, specialty olive oils, cheese and cold cuts, homemade bread. At a picnic table set over the vineyards, we unwrapped our wax paper packets, the crackle and aroma of freshly prepared sandwiches creating an unforgettable sensation in our bright patch of sun.

Porter Creek was next, a friendly little winery that produces organic wines. Its tasting room, wreathed in purple lavender, sits next to an enormous weeping willow in the shade of a hillside vineyard. We also enjoyed Moshin Vineyards, which specialises in hand-crafted wines, particularly in distinctive Pinot Noirs. By now we had had a selection of big-bodied, velvety Pinots, and were looking for a particular Chardonnay, something a bit complex — golden-coloured, crisp, non-oaky. Wisely, Dan had saved the best for last: Balletto Vineyards, an exceptional small-batch winery. Every single wine at their tasting was a hit. Three bottles richer and about 35 samples down, it was regrettably time for us to exit paradise.

In Sonoma, there’s a tangible pursuit of excellence just below the surface ease and enjoyment of life’s pleasures; and a discovery of wines so limited in production that they’re only sold through the tasting rooms. The locals’ love of their land is so infectious that you invariably find yourself wishing you could somehow abandon the urban dream, buy a few acres of land, plant vegetables, lay down vines and watch the special terroir work its California magic.

Anees Saigal is a food and travel writer based in the slightly more accessible Paradise of Goa

Related Topics