Seattle, part two: not in Seattle

Though there's plenty to do in Seattle itself, Jen and I also decided to spend some time outside of the city, up in the mountains.  Our first day trip was to Leavenworth, Washington, a little town tucked away in the Cascades, about two hours' drive East from Seattle.  Or perhaps, rather than "town," I should say, "Bavarian village," as the welcome sign does.

Leavenworth is an unusual find: all of the architecture is modeled after the idea of an old Bavarian village, complete with half-timbered facades.  All the signs in the town, including those marking outlets of national chains, like Bank of America or Starbucks, are painted on wood in an Olde English script, which is cute, if perhaps a little gimmicky.

Unlike the real Bavaria (home of Oktoberfest), the beverage of choice in Leavenworth is not beer, but wine.  Jen and I, along with Jen's roommate Elizabeth and their friend Hannah, made the trek across the mountains (and, as they, all being atmospheric sciences graduate students, kept pointing out, over the rain shadow) for a day of wine tasting.  Over the course of a few hours, we visited three wineries: Silvara Vineyards, Cascadia Winery, and Wedge Mountain Winery.  Though grapes don't grow all that well in the Leavenworth area (I learned that day that grapes grow well in apple country, but that Leavenworth is in the heart of Washington's pear belt; who knew), there are a number of wineries that have popped up in the area in the last decade or so.  Though they purchase their grapes from other commercial vineyards in Washington, the wines were made on-site at each winery.

We started at Silvara, which opened for business less than five years ago.  It boasts a brand-new, very happily situated tasting room that sits on top of a hillside, in the middle of a pear orchard, surrounded by wildflowers, with a spectacular panoramic view of the mountains.  If there was ever a more poetic setting, I'm sure I've never heard of it.

We tasted through a flight of five wines at Silvara, and I was particularly impressed with the Syrah, which was big and flavorful without being overly tannic.  Elizabeth and Hannah had never been wine tasting before, which surprised me - I forget sometimes just how much I do know about food and drink, because I always feel there is so much more for me to learn!  I led a discussion about our tasting so that, at the very least, I hope they'll be able to fake their way into the world of wine snobbery with passable repartee of legs, first and second noses, mouthfeels, and finishes.  (The trick is, when in doubt, go with "essence of toast.")

Cascadia and Wedge Mountain were fun visits because both wineries are family owned.  In both cases, we were tasting with one of the owners; at Cascadia, with the winemaker himself.  It was great to be able to speak to the people making the decisions about which grapes to use and how to make the wine to create the wines they particularly liked.  We tasted three or four wines at Cascadia, and another seven at Wedge Mountain, by the end of which we thought perhaps that was enough for one day.  Though I must confess that most of what I tasted has all run together in my mind now, the wine that really stands out to me was Wedge Mountain's raspberry dessert wine, made with 100% raspberries, ripe and sweet and utterly delicious.  The only bottle I actually bought, however, was Cascadia's Roussane, a pleasant, crisp white.

On the drive back to Seattle, we stopped at a couple of roadside fruit stands, several of which had posted signs advertising their cherries - just like Northern Michigan!  But with totems.

At the last stand we visited, I bought a few of the rosiest, most beautiful apricots I've ever seen.  Regretfully, I did not take their picture, but I'm happy to say that they tasted as good as they looked.

Elizabeth, not being totally sick of wine by the end of the day, came home that evening to begin preparing a homemade blackberry wine with blackberries she had picked along the Burke Gilman train a few days earlier.  From my limited exposure, it seems to me that winemaking is a lot like jam making: everything has to be sterile, and there's lots of fruit and sugar, and if you do something wrong then your final product may kill you.  Jen and I, being less adventurous, made a loaf of safe, reliable, non-lethal banana bread.

The next day, we ventured out of Seattle again, this time to the Eastern edge of the Cascades to a miniature mountain called Little Si.  Considering how nature-crazy most Seattlites seem to be, it hardly seemed right to make my visit without heading out into the wilderness for some white water rafting or extreme mountain biking.  However, being a Michigander and, therefore, not quite so intrepid as those hardy Washingtonians, I was glad we opted for a hike instead.

Little Si boasts a pleasant hiking path, about five miles round trip, to a summit at 1576 feet.  On the way, it was clear why Washington is known as "the Evergreen State" - the path was surrounded by tall, tall trees. 

At the summit, we soaked in the sights while munching on slices of last night's banana bread.  Not bad for a day's work.