A perfect pairing (part 2)
Four-year-old triplets, Tucker, Taylor and Lexi Bolsinger play in a puddle in Dundee, Ore.
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It's a travel day so we have to get motivated sooner than either of us would desire. The driving rain greets us as we leave, making us wish for one more day in our newfound ocean hideaway.
The rains let up as we crest the mountains and descend into the lush Willamette Valley. I lived here for nearly a decade so feel confident that I can weave my way through the backroads into the wine country for a lunch date with my father. My confidence is misplaced, however, as the signposts (you know, like the old post in M*A*S*H with arrows, names of towns and numbers to indicate the distance remaining) fail to direct me to the cut-off I know exists. We spend 30 extra minutes weaving through the Dundee hills, a trek which not only makes us late but pushes the gas needle precariously close to empty.
My wife, Lori, knows this routine. She only tenses when the gas station up ahead, the one that caused an almost reflexive sigh of relief in me that betrays my claims of absolute confidence, is closed.
Dundee has changed in the 10 years since I visited last. My father used to live here, right along the busy highway. I used to play pool in the little local tavern after a hard day landscaping. Now, yuppified wineries, restaurants and delis dot the mile-long stretch of this small, yet burgeoning wine town. I have to admit, I like it, though I'm sure many of my anti-sprawl Ashland friends would cringe.
Meeting my father on a restful weekend is like going into an arcade after a walk on the beach. It's an hour of utter chaos, but also kind of fun, which best describes the zany, wonderful life he and his wife have chosen to lead. As we enter the restaurant nearly 45 minutes late, we are greeted by half-empty plates of appetizers strewn about the tables as my three lovely, incredible half-siblings clamor around the table.
They can't be blamed. My brother Tucker, and sisters Taylor and Lexi--four-year-old triplets to my 64-year-old father--are simply doing what kids do. They eat, the get restless and they squirm!
They prove to be troopers, hanging in there while Lori and I grab a quick burger and catch up with my father, stepmother and grandmother around the large, noisy table.
Ours is anything but a two-kids-and-white-picket-fence family, but as the saying goes, "that's how we roll."
After lunch (and after fishing Tucker out of the puddle of water in the parking lot) Lori and I fall quickly back into our tranquil weekend getaway by visiting two of the new Dundee tasting rooms. The verdant gardens of Argyle are only matched by the fruity and crisp wines we taste (and later buy). The old broken down train station in town has been transformed into a pinot Noir tasting paradise, which we visit next.
If anyone outside of the Willamette Valley, the coastal Alexander Valley near Healdsburg, Calif. and the Carneros region of Napa claim they make exquisite pinot noir, I'd make them prove it. The cursed coastal fog which drives depressed people to seek florescent lights for their depression is like a security blanket to the delicate pinot noir grape. Willamette Valley pinots, as we tasted at the Dundee Pinot Station, prove it to be so. We leave with a case of wines in varied prices and a newfound favorite for everyday drinking (Wine By Joe).
Within 45 minutes (a drive memory lane through Newberg, where I went to college and much of graduate school) we are back with one of our familiar friends: The Vintage Plaza in downtown Portland.
I've written before that I choose Kimpton Hotels whenever I can. The reasons are too many to count: The wine every day for happy hour, the pet-friendly approach, the personalized service, the big robes and fluffy pillows, the fish in the fishbowl left in my room for company, great locations in major cities around the United States, the exotic decorations, the great restaurants that usually accompany them, the unique atmosphere of each hotel, the socially active corporate philosophy that supports fundraising for AIDS, provides funds for disadvantaged women to buy professional clothes (what an incredible idea!), and on, and on" — Yes, I'm a big fan.
The Vintage Plaza does not disappoint. My relatively inexpensive upgrade provides Lori and I a two-story suite in the middle of downtown Portland, which is exactly the kind of extravagance I want her to enjoy as her birthday weekend comes to close. Our final dinner is, again, like the theme of this trip, set in motion by my friend's search for a new place to call home away from home, a restaurant we have visited many times, and I have written about before. The Red Star Tavern on Fifth Street provides the perfect dinner as the perfect bookend to our three-day getaway.
We leave the next morning, rested and relaxed, and very grateful that such incredible tourist diversity, from Portland's big city, to the Willamette Valley's Wine Country to our newfound friend on the coast called Ocean Lodge, is just a few hours drive away from the Eden we call home every day.
