Within a few weeks, I got a job in the Tablas Creek tasting room, which would eventually lead to a 15-year career in the wine industry, both on the Central Coast and in Sonoma County. The allure of wine deeply resonated with my passion for food and cooking, and the more I learned, the more I wanted to know. My visit to Tablas Creek winery was a turning point. And as the chunky limestone soil crunched beneath our feet, we learned about dry farming, the definition of calcareous, and the tenacious character of a grapevine with limited access to water. We toured the greenhouse and learned the magic of grafting budwood onto rootstock, the two snapping together like pieces of a puzzle. But I hadn’t experienced its mystery, complexity and intricacy until I tasted the Rhône-varietal wines at Tablas Creek.įor starters, what was picpoul blanc? Rousanne? Marsanne? Mourvèdre? And why did the latter have me wrapped around its finger with its distinct underpinnings of gamy meat?ĭuring a tour of the property, our guide explained that Tablas Creek originated from a partnership between the Perrin family of Château de Beaucastel, a famed estate in the Southern Rhône region of France, and the Haas family of Vineyard Brands, an American wine importing business whose founder, Robert Haas, helped to establish Beaucastel as one of the leading estates in the international wine community. I had always enjoyed wine wine accompanied food. I had just moved to the Central Coast to be near family when a friend invited me to tag along to the winery for a tasting. If I had to define the first moment wine truly swept me off my feet, it would be my first visit to Tablas Creek Winery in Paso Robles.
It also inspired a move to Scotland’s Isle of Islay in the Inner Hebrides and a certificate from Bruichladdich’s Malt Whisky Academy (but that’s another story). Over the next decade, I would go on to write for 40 magazines and newspapers, first about food, then about spirits and travel, then about the alluring blend of all three.Īlong the way, I developed a full-fledged love affair with Scotch whisky, which led to my first articles for the New York Times, the Boston Globe, Robb Report and Forbes. Besides, I had recently discovered a new passion for food writing, and storytelling and finding unique adjectives for words like “crispy” and “plump.”īut it wasn’t until I wrote a popular essay for Saveur magazine on the idiosyncrasy of carob Easter bunnies that I realized I had found my true calling as a writer. That was okay I didn’t want to work there, anyway. And I was promptly dismissed by the head chef.
Let’s just say, sh*t hit the pan - I mean, fan. But during the cooking audition, I accidentally used a sheet tray - instead of a baking pan -to bake my lightly golden, perfectly risen Parker House rolls. My love of food and cooking eventually led me to culinary school in New York City, where I went on to work as a private chef and recipe developer while searching for my culinary niche.Īt one point, I decided a job in the Martha Stewart test kitchen could be my calling. As it turned out, my youthful zest for cooking would spark not just a lifelong passion for food (and eventually wine and spirits) but also my career as a writer.īorn and raised in Santa Monica, I landed on the East Coast via Boston to study classical clarinet, which amounted to nothing more than 21-year-old uncertainty and plentiful student debt. The year was 1983, and thanks to the miracle of television commercials, I had firmly decided the dazzling, sunshine yellow oven (once powered by a single light bulb) would be the answer to my childhood dreams. Today, we introduce you to Sarah Doyle, one of our wine writers who is focused on in-depth coverage of the wine industry.īefore wine, there was the Easy-Bake Oven.
As you’ll see, we’re also your neighbors with unique backgrounds and experiences who proudly call Sonoma County home. “Behind the Byline” introduces you to those who write stories, shoot photos, design pages and edit the content we deliver in our print editions and on.
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