Daytrip #1: Amador County-Wine, Women, Ravioli

In the first of a new series of daytrip recommendations, I offer a few nuggets (no pun intended) of goodness tucked away in the golden hills of Amador county.  And, since good things come in threes–Beastie Boys, incarnations of the Catholic God, Stooges–here are three stops guaranteed to make your Amador daytrip memorable.

Stop #1:  Dry Town Cellars– Perhaps the most casual winery outside of a penitentiary, Dry Town Cellars prides itself on great wines and groovy vibes.  Trust me this place is laid back.  Don’t believe me?  Just check out what the guy running the tasting room is drinking–that’s right, Miller Light.  Winemaker and owner Allen Kreutzer, originally a Santa Cruz dude, has a deft touch with the wine and a heavy (and sometimes dirty) hand when reaching for the tasting room crackers.   Nevertheless, he’ll do right by you with great wines at a fair price.  Try the Barbera, play fetch with the dogs, and don’t forget your antibacterial wipes.

Stop #2: Karmere Vineyards & Winery-  The tasting room is pretty, with a beautiful view or the surrounding valley.  Life up here is sweet, and the wines show it.  Luscious, jammy wines are waiting for you at Karmere.  Don’t let your friends try to talk you into wines you don’t like.  Go for the big, yummy wines that make you the unrefined galoot that you are.  Bonus point:  all of Karmere’s labels depict creepy gothic female portraits more appropriate to some fantasy dungeon than a wine bottle, so they’re right up your alley if your inner yuppie and inner goth have been going at each other like feral cats.

Stop #3: Vinciguerra Ravioli Co.-  At a recent dinner, I was introduced to Jim Vinciguerra, or, more precisely, I was introduced to Jim’s raviolis.  They are things of beauty.  I had forgotten how good a ravioli can be.  These things were magnificent, totally outshining the spit roasted lamb, the free wine, even the cheesecake a the aforementioned dinner.  Jim managed to outshine almost everyone with brash stories of telling off the health department and making food the way he wants to make it.  “Piss on ’em,” he says.  I don’t care who he pisses on, his raviolis are unreal.  He sells them frozen, all of them, no exceptions, claiming that “you don’t want fresh, trust me.”  He says, “fresh raviolis stick to the pot, to each other, hell, they’ll stick to water.”  I won’t doubt the guy, he seems to know what he’s doing.   There’s no dining room, no waiters, no cooked food at his small Jackson storefront, just frozen raviolis, so bring a cooler and few ice packs with you on your daytrip.  He’s making pumpkin raviolis for a few more weeks still, so grab ’em while you can, and flip off the health department stooge if you see him.