Casa Paul Fleming

After a leisurely day at the Claremont in Berkeley in Oakland, I was whisked away to Napa and the Meadowood Resort. After settling into my room, a private nook about a driver and a pitching wedge away from the main building, I met up with my group for the weekend at a reception in the resort's lobby. It's a bustling group of energetic couples, from a well rounded cross section of the country, from Naples and the DC area all the way to San Jose, a mere 2 hour drive away. We introduced ourselves and met with Marion, the Fleming's Director of Wine for the whole chain. She was a delightful Dutch blond, with an easy charm and quick smile. She asked us to tell of our hometown and favorite wine, and I once again realized how "New World centric" this group was likely to be. But that's to be expected. So we boarded busses and headed off to meet the creator of the Fleming's concept, Paul Fleming and his pretty wife Kelly. A simple but elegant ranch cut into the top of a hill overlooking the Napa River, Kelly designed this beautiful home understanding the biggest threat to the valley: Fire. Stone and wrought iron, there is no exterior maintenance, and nothing to burn in the tragic case of destruction of the area. She said it was her intent to be able to move right back in after any tragedy. She grows five acres of Cabernet, and countless small gardens of organic vegetables and herbs. Paul handled the initial greeting and passed out our first wines. He is a mid fifties boyish looking power player with a passion for value and service. From the moment we shook hands I felt an easy friendship, and enjoyed listening to his methodology of creativity in designing his restaurant visions.
The outside veranda was set up with two long tables set for forty of us, and as we enjoyed the first offering of Rose brut and Sauvignon Blanc, we tasted grilled sardines wrapped in grape leaves, and skewered salmon appetizers. Bisecting the two long dining tables was a water feature, a foot wide and foot deep stream going from the house to the edge of the veranda, where it cascaded down the hill in front of us not dissimilar to some of the Inca aqueducts that BW and I see in Peru. We took bets the rest of the night as to who was going to be stepping into this water hazard, perfectly situated for drunken wine guzzlers to disregard on their way to and from the tables.
The dinner call came with no one's feet wet however and we sat in the setting sun to enjoy the Fleming's hospitality. A Fava bean soup was first served with Etude Pinot Noir fromCarneros. The chef for the evening it turns out used to work at Chez Panisse, and still sells the organic goods from the her own garden to the restaurant. So on successive evenings, I enjoyed fava from her garden prepared in slightly different ways. Small world. This soup was broth based with spring onion and topped with sage flowers and arugula blossoms. Whole fava, not dissimilar to lima beans, brought an earthy depth to the dish, complimenting the wine style.
Our main course was sliced loin of beef with small onions and potatoes with crispy fried green and an almond onion sauce. One of the greens was small sage leaves, fired crisp and salted and dusted with an ever so slight portion of cheese crumbs. I took some notes on this interesting Kelly's 2002 Cabernet was brought out for this course, a three hundred case effort which has smoothed we were told and emerged from a bit of a dumb stage to present quiet fruit with mild tannin, not a rock crusher but more in a Sonoma, cooler climate, style. The Fleming's crew, Paul and Kelly included moved around the two tables, sitting in different places for each course, and encouraging the guests to do the same. Our table, made our move to uproot about half the folks at table two after the steak and before our third course, a salad green and cheese pairing. This brought uproar and chaos, but that was it's intent, and we settled in to meet and greet new faces. One poor girl, Sally, had been thrust between two couples from Southern California who traveled together. Their teasing had gotten her laughing at literally every thing they said, to the crying, belly hurting laugh point. So easy was she to be put off on another tear of laughter, one of the couples wives held up the butter dish and yelled out: "Hey, Sally! Butter!" To which Sally once again was doubled over in pain and tears of mirth.
After the salad, Taylor Fladgate 1988 vintage Port was poured all round, and a strawberry tart brought to continue the similarities between my two California dinners. Darkness had fallen and the air had cooled by this time, and the host couple moved around and between their guests having photos taken, and telling us about his future endeavors. Paul is a consummate restauranteur and business man, a pleasant professional. His home and family show his grace and quality and as we rode back to our hotel, I could not help thinking how nice it will be to return to visit them again.