On the sidewalks of St Helena, just over an hour north of San Francisco, it feels hot enough to fry an egg on the pavement. It’s around 35C on the manicured high street of the wine town, the heat radiating across the clipped rows of the surrounding vineyards. So naturally, I blame thirst for driving me into a cool tasting room at just 11am. Not that I should have to explain myself; this is Napa Valley, where drinking is encouraged.
Surrounded by steel tanks and barrels, effervescent assistant Zack spends an hour pouring me samples. Then, a dozen boozy splashes in, when things have gone pleasantly fuzzy and the outdoor heat has faded to distant memory, he pulls out one final bottle. “This,” he says, filling my glass, “is really special; it has notes of mandarin and lemongrass.” I breathe in the zesty aromas and sip deep. Now that’s one heck of a beer.
Yes, beer in Napa Valley, America’s most famous wine region. Here, where most worship at the altar of the grape — specifically, bold, tannic Cabernet Sauvignon — it takes imagination to do something different. More than that: with both
