One weekend last month, we went on an adventure with two dear friends; our goal was simple--find wine and drink it. Chris and I drove to the oasis of Olympia where we were treated to a fine, heaping barbecued dinner straight off the grill and a huge bottle of wine. With the question of where exactly we wanted to look for wine looming before us, it only made sense to sip the stuff while we pondered our next day's journey.
In the last decade,
Washington wineries have been sprouting up in every nook and cranny of the state. From Olympia, we could toss a rock in any direction and it might hit a bottle (granted, we'd have to be able to toss
really far.) After considering going south to Oregon, north to Skagit Valley, and various Eastward routes, we settled on one destination: the Yakima valley.
Although we set out to make a weekend of wining, it seemed to me that we spent more time deliberating over food. As a vegan (or even vegetarian), eating anywhere to the east of the Cascade Mountain Range, can prove difficult. After searching downtown and eschewing a ritzy, inauthentic Mexican joint, we fell upon this gem: Tequila's. Located in two old train cars with a big wooden deck surrounding the restaurant, we ate our fill of chips with salsa and pico de gallo. What's more, the vegetarian section of the menu offered more than just the requisite burrito: i.e. the elusive veggie chimichanga.
And now, food aside, let me tell you about our bittersweet trips to the wineries. Our first destination was
Sagelands Vineyard. Everything we tasted was great, the woman who helped us was terribly friendly (so friendly that she was telling us about her laser arm pit hair removal!), and the showroom was devoid of the cheap kitsch that some wineries tend toward.
I could really get behind this place if not for one little detail that got under my skin. It seemed wonderful at first--they were offering snacks in return for a donation to the
Humane Society of Central Washington. I was pleased as punch until I began to inspect the snacks. The food that really bothered me was set out on a plate next to the register closest to the donation can--mini hotdogs. Offering dead animals as a means to secure donations for other animals is such a backwards, disconnected practice of hypocrisy.
I didn't say anything and Chris still bought two bottles of their wine--Merlot and a blended Red Table Wine. But, suffice it to say, we probably won't be going back there.
Merlot from Sagelands Vineyard
with Poppies and Persian Violets from our garden
The second winery we visited, Windy Point, had a beautiful view of the valley. And that's about the nicest thing I can say about it. I would've liked their wine, would've even bought a bottle or two, but we were snubbed for a bachelorette party in summery, spaghetti-strap dresses. I guess our tattoos and jeans weren't up to their expectations.
But thankfully, a good time is not made in purchases. On our way home, we stopped at fruit stands for peaches, berries and corn and took a detour to make a scenic trek up through a pitch-black cave in the
Wenatchee National Forest. And then, finally back in Olympia, we bookended the trip with one last barbecue. In spite of the snooty winery and nasty hot dogs, it was a lovely weekend all in all.
one more garden shot: Persian Violets (or Love in a Mist)
