Don't Worry, Be Miserable

After reading Ms. K's post about happiness this morning, The Great Plotnik commented that it's easier to be happy if you expect to be sad. Perhaps it's also true that Deliriously Ecstatic must first pass through Certifiably Miserable. Maybe not. But maybe.

Yesterday, Plotnik planned out four stops: Bouchaine Winery, Chateau Potelle Vineyards, the town of Yountville and dinner at Mustard's. Of the four, he expected Chateau Potelle to be the pinnacle, Mustard's next, Yountville itself a fun place to walk around and Bouchaine Winery to be a waste of time -- Plot was looking for a winery in the Carneros that specialized in whites, and that didn't charge for tasting, and Bouchaine was the only one he could find. Expecting little, he decided the four travelers should go there first.

The people at Bouchaine are as nice as they can be. When they saw Plot and Duck and Joe and Pat carrying a bag of sandwiches, they directed the group to the picnic area, overlooking the vineyard, and insisted that the women running the tasting room be permitted to bring the wines to-be-tasted to the table. The salami, prosciutto and tomato went excellently with the Buchtli Chardonnay. The hospitality, sandwiches and wines were perfect. A case of chard went into the trunk. Expectation: 0. Result: 4.

Next, the road wound into the Mayacamas to bucolic Chateau Potelle. Plot and Duck had stumbled across the vineyard five years or so ago, when the wines were inexpensive, tasting free, and the zinfandels yummy. Now, you have to pay $10 for a tiny taste of any of the zins and the wine steward looked like he had been interrupted from his nap. Has the Napa Valley vibe climbed up into the Mayacamas, or was it too much anticipation? Even after the long drive, no one wanted to stay. The four got back into the car and took off. Expectation: 4. Result: 0.

The next stop was the town of Yountville. The only people there were merchants talking to other merchants on cell phones. Historic Jefferson Street is -- well, short. There's a pretty church there. It would be a nice place to nap.

Everyone wanted to eat at the French Laundry, but, lacking the $200 cash each would need, they did the next best thing. Pat took a mint out of her pocket, and split it in four pieces, which the group swallowed while each put a foot on the French Laundry sign. The mint: Priceless. Yountville -- Expectation 3, Result: 1.



Plot had been looking forward to eating at Mustard's for years. They do have a lot of wine. Here's the menu.



The food was good, the service was good, the selection was good. But for the whole night, something was missing for Plotnik. As he tasted Ducknik's not bad aji sandwich, he got it. Mustard's was probably at its best when everyone expected it to be the roadhouse it resembles. But now that chef Cindy Pawlcyn has ascended to Food Celebrity-hood, you expect more. It's not the restaurant's fault. It's the fault of impossible expectation.

The fried calamari under a mountain of curried cole slaw looked fantastic, but the tastes really didn't go together very well. The roast chicken was good. The red snapper was good, but tiny. It came with 3 teensy weensy carrots and a few shmeensy wedges from maybe half a small potato, and cost $25. Dunno. Seems excessive to Plottie.

OK, most restaurants seem excessive to Plottie. We'll grant that.

The aji sandwich would have made a great burger. But it wasn't a burger. The lime tart with Huge Meringue had way too much meringue and not nearly enough lime tart. Clyde made a lemon tart the next night that put this one to shame.

Coffee was good, but they blew the not-all-that-complicated order of one regular and one decaf. When both cups looked identical, Plot asked the busboy who brought the coffee if one was de-caf, and if he was sure which was which. He smiled. Pat was up all night.

Here's the deal: Run into this place on a ski trip in the Hoozyagoochis and you'd be singing its praises to the skies. But Napa is not the Hoozyagoochis, it's Napa Valley. Stakes, prices and expectation are 'way higher, perhaps impossibly so. Expectation: 3+. Result: 2+.

So, Ms. K., the answer, clearly, is to expect little. Don't Worry, Be Miserable. Or start off that way. You'll probably have a ball and you'll swoon over that calamari.