Chasing Spring
by Catheryn J. Brockett


It’s Monday the first of May and I’m up in Napa chasing spring.  In L.A. I think I already missed it – I was paying attention to the traffic.  So I’ve headed north to spend the weekend with friends.  In Celtic traditions this is the time of Beltane – a spring festival of fertility, sensuality and fire.  Men and women go into the woods on the thirtieth of April and spend the night there dancing and playing games around the fire.

My friend Kate and I were meeting friends at a famous little restaurant called Mustard’s.  Tucked into a hillside vineyard in this place is so hip the fresh bread is dumped directly onto the table.

The sun had just freshly set as we pull up to the restaurant and I step out into a night so cool and still it feels like an empty church.

The front of the restaurant is one long low story of paned windows propped open into the night.  Everything is in crisp focus and seems spectacularly clean – dreamily lit from by dozens of candles on white tablecloths it is a photo spread in Food and Wine magazine.  You can hear the sounds of laughing and dining – pulling the door open spills the sound together – and oh my God it smells amazing – like a campfire – well a campfire at a really rich person’s house.

We were early so we headed for the bar.  I saw him immediately – sitting alone – looking just like a young Brad Pitt – but not weasely – taller, with a plaid newsboy cap covering his longish blonde hair.  He was really enjoying his food – fork in one hand – knife in the other – like a conductor in the midst of a food concerto – wine so red it was almost brown pooled in a huge glass just above his right hand.

I wondered if I should know who he was – Napa is just lousy with the rich and famous.  Movie star?  Winemaker’s son?  I know I will have to flirt with him.  He’s far too pretty to take me seriously – but it would be a crime to come to a restaurant like this and not try everything.
We peruse our menus.  Roasted Quail with a spiced chipotle rub – grilled hanger steak with fingerling potatoes and truffle oil.

The bartender tells us the special is a grilled liver with hickory-smoked bacon.

“Oh – that’s what he’s having.”  I say loud enough for my voice to carry.

“It’s really good,” he smiles looking up at us.

“It does look good,” I say – I’m surprised myself – I’m a meat girl – but usually steak not organs.

“You want to try some?”  He cuts off a huge hunk – placing a thick slab of bacon artfully on top and sliding it on to a clean white plate the bartender has produced from behind the bar like a magic trick.  And then there is in front of me – it looks good – but I don’t even know this guy – and in a world where people Purell their hands after touching shopping cart handles I question the wisdom eating his offering.  I don’t want to be rude, and everyone is now watching – I feel Kate beside me – she’s so glad she’s not me.

“You don’t have to…” he smiles over his wine.

“I just don’t know if I know you well enough to have your fork in my mouth,” I say just a little wickedly.

I’m trying to reason with myself that it is unlikely any sore producing germs could survive the trip from his mouth to his fork to the liver to the plate – to my fork and into my mouth as I put together a bite – liver, bacon, sauce and put it into my mouth.  It is smoky, rich, earthy, and really good.

The ice broken – he and Kate launch into a conversation.  He is taking classes at the Culinary Arts Institute and holistic and nutrition classes at another college.  A surprisingly interesting – and innovative – combo…

Kate admits to being a chef – she’s taken courses at the CIA too and then starts dropping big wine names.  Studied with Karen so and so…  I’m a little disappointed we’re not talking about anything I have anything to contribute to.

I keep eating the liver.  I don’t really want to – but now that I’ve started I feel compelled to finish.

But then he asks, “what did you guys do while you were up here today?”

Kate rolls her eyes.  “She wanted to see Old Faithful” like she’s too cool to admit she had just as much fun at the “Old Faithful of Calistoga, California Geyser and Animal Park” as I did.
“It was the best!  Have you been there yet?  They have llamas you can feed and fainting goats!”  They have these goats that are some rare New Zealand breed that “faint” as a “defense mechanism” against predators.  I filled my digital camera with photos of them because the gift shop was closed and I couldn’t buy a ‘I made the goats faint at Old Faithful’ tee-shirt.  I show the pictures to fake Brad, standing too close to him at the bar, so he would catch on that I was fun loving.


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