It started with paella, in a pan large enough to feed 100 people. First, they added rabbit, then chicken, chorizo and snails. As a vegetarian, the dish was lost to me the second the bacon fat went into the pan. Still, though I didn't partake in the delicacy (a personal opinion held by my roommates, not a statement of fact!), it was fascinating to watch the dish come together, especially on such a large scale.
And, to be polite, I ate my tomato, mozzarella and basil sandwich from Whole Foods (ironically on the menu as the "Napa Valley") in a corner so as not to insult the chef. What can I say? I was starving.
Though the food wasn't my thing (okay, the s'mores we made over the fire later were!), the party itself was a true testament to the luxury of Napa living. Most of the people I met were somehow connected to the area, having grown up here or somewhere close by. Still, there was that handful of transplants in the mix, and we all seem to have an instant bond over somehow being outsiders in a foreign land.
Yet, the amazing thing about all the "foreigners" I meet here - I'll use that term to describe anyone from outside the state of California - is that they all seem to have come and stayed longer than intended. It's just so beautiful here, this lifestyle so enticing, that once you have a taste of it you simply can't imagine being without it. In a way, it's like a drug. I'm barely two weeks in, but from what I hear from the people who have stayed two, six, ten years, the addiction only gets stronger.
A girl I met on Friday night at a barbecue moved here two and a half years ago from Boston. She told me that everyday she still wakes up in awe that she lives here. How many people can really say that?
It's certainly clear that the people from Napa know how beautiful this place is - that's why they stay. But, it's the outsiders like me who can truly appreciate their world because we're not from it. And we pinch ourselves everyday that we get to be a part of it.
I did have a few sips of wine after it turned out that one of our guests worked at the health clinic where I received my antibiotic prescription, and she told me one glass wouldn't hurt. So, I had to at least have a small taste when the winemaker from Fleury told me I had to try his Zinfandel / Cabernet blend. I mean he had made it himself: how could I insult him?
At 1 a.m. the party was still going strong, but I was ready for bed. I offered to help clean up before taking the long trek up the stairs to my room (convenient party location!), but my roommate, Dan, shoved me away and told me to go to sleep. At 9 a.m. this morning when I came downstairs, the entire place was spotless; you'd hardly know we'd had a party.
I went outside and sat by the pool to call and wish my dad and grandfathers a happy Father's Day (the only truly difficult part of living away is the distance between family and friends). By the time I walked back into the kitchen, Gary, who'd cooked every morsel of food for last night's soiree, had set aside for me a plate of scrambled eggs with arugula, basil and squash blossoms from our own garden.
I'm still pinching myself.
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