During the last few weeks, on one of our many visits to wineries — perhaps the old Curtis Winery connected by a path to the (old) Firestone Winery — Michael struck up a conversation with our wine pourer about beer and breweries.  Specifically, Firestone Beer. The story is long, but in a nutshell, the owners of the Firestone Winery started dabbling in beer, eventually focusing all their efforts on that beverage, selling their winery, and building Firestone Brewery to take its place.

On the Way to Firestone Brewery

Even though they traded grapes for hops, Firestone Brewery kept the name Firestone, and brew their beer in Buellton, just over the ridge from the Santa Ynez Valley. Michael has been yearning to visit their taproom and have further tastings ever since he ordered a glass of their beer in Los Olivos last week.  Me, not so much.  I think it is bitter — and I do not think bitter beer is better beer.

With nothing on the agenda for this last day of the three-day holiday weekend, a trip up 101 to Buellton doesn’t seem like too risky an idea; at least we will be traveling away from the hordes in LA.

The fog hits as we leave Santa Barbara, and I think maybe, just maybe, we made a mistake venturing out this day.

The tendrils of fog whisper goodbye as 101 veers east toward Buellton and the mountains.  An umbrella of blue greets us on our climb from the coastal shores.

Lunch at Firestone Brewery

Along with a brewery, Firestone Brewery also has a restaurant where we order lunch. Michael is happy with his bitter beer and his crispy fish and chips. Of course, Michael is older than I am, and I read that as you age, your taste buds not only develop a more refined taste, but you need and like sugar less than when you were young. So older people tend to move from sweet drinks to bitter drinks as they age. Maybe in three years, I will like bitter beer too.

I am happy with my white wine — whatever it is — but my lunch disappoints.  I ordered two fish tacos, and what is set before me is exactly—two fish tacos. The fish are friend nuggets with shredded cabbage tucked into a thin flour tortilla. Along with these items are a minuscule container of mango salsa with an equally minuscule container of sauce, for a combined total of $17.  I feel a tiny bit ripped off.

Foxen Winery

To bring a smile to my face Michael suggests we drive into the Santa Ynez Valley and down Foxen Canyon Road, visiting Foxen Winery, #59 on my 101 Best list while there. I smile and nod agreement. My memories from nine years ago are of a small shack in a narrow part of the canyon on a narrower, older portion of the road. Today the sign advising us our destination has been reached points to a shiny and new huge barn of a building. 

But Where is the Shack I Remember

When I mention the shack that used to be the Foxen Winery tasting room, we are informed it still exists, and that is where they serve tastings of the big reds — our preference. I think we should leave immediately and head down the road, but Michael urges me to taste the offerings here, so I sample a selection of very good whites and pinot noirs.  Of course the one I like best costs the most. We pay the tasting fee and point the nose of our car north.

This tiny, humble, open-air shed of a building proves that you cannot judge a book by its cover. The wines we taste are excellent, and I am just mellow enough to consider joining their wine club.  However, because of our here-again, there-again, traveling-again schedule, I need to negotiate shipment timings. I think perhaps they will not be able to agree to my request, but they are seemingly small enough to accommodate anything and good enough for me to sign on the dotted line. I am urged to return before we leave and bring a picnic — an easy way to win me over. 

While I negotiate, Michael naps.

Back to Oxnard

The skies are blue.  The hills green. The sun shines.  We head south toward Oxnard, leaving Firestone Brewery and Foxen Winery in our review mirror. Then I begin to wonder about my impulsive purchase.  Michael says, “It’s only money.”  Yes, it’s only money.

The holiday traffic stops us cold in Santa Barbara. 

We crawl back to Oxnard into and through the fog.

1/22/2015 8:25:10 PM