Above: Oysters on the half shell at Shuckers at the Fairmont hotel in Seattle. As the name would suggest, Shuckers is an old and crusty oyster bar, just the way I like it.

Oysters have been on my mind all morning: I just filed a story on pairing wines with Gulf oysters for a Houston lifestyle magazine.

I like Gulf oysters a lot and I love the way that Gulf coast culinary culture calls for them to be grilled, roasted, smoked, fried, and prepared in any which way but loose.

But nothing comes close to the oyster culture that they have up there in the wild northwest of the United States and Canada.

Above: I was blown away by the bartender’s expertise on the oysters. A salty old dude with a pony tail, he’d been working there for more than 20 years he said.

When Paolo and I were in Seattle a week ago today, I slipped into our hotel’s oyster bar, Shuckers, for a glass and few oyster before heading out for dinner.

The restaurant was a classic old west coast saloon, where tourists mixed with a “get your drink on” crowd at the bar who seemed to be on a first-name basis with the staff.

I loved the range of oysters I tasted (a half dozen in all) and I loved that they were all from the northwest.

Above: If I remember correctly, I paid $9 by-the-glass for this stainless-steel Washington Sauvignon Blanc. It was fresh and clean and varietally correct. With its cool weather and maritime influence, Washington is one of the few places in America where it actually makes sense to grow wine.

“It’s pretty rare that we need to bring oysters from somewhere else,” said the bartender, a salty dude with pony tail and sideburns almost as long as mine. “That only happens when the water’s not clean. And that hasn’t happened for a long time now.”

He blew me away with his knowledge of the oysters and his nuanced tasting notes. He never cracked a smile but he was as friendly and as helpful as a bartender could be.

If you ever make to that part of the world, be sure to go see him…

I’m sorry, Houston. You may have some great restaurants and an evolving wine scene… and you certainly have the braggadaccio. But in my view of the world, San Francisco is the hippest enogastronmic destination in the U.S. these days.

Between the “new California wine,” the vibrant restaurant scene there (Tosca? St. Vincent’s? RN74? And all of Shelley Lindgren’s restaurants?); the accessibility of the best produce in the country; the availability of great Italian (Vinity is one of my favorite portfolios), Spanish, and French wines; and a host of great wine writers and wine media platforms, the bottom line is that San Francisco leads the nation in its fine food and wine awareness.

So is it possible that blush wine still exists there?

Last Sunday night, Paolo and I stayed at the Hilton in the Financial District on Kearny.

Before we headed to dinner (more on that later), I stopped at the hotel’s restaurant (“East Meets West with a Northern California Twist!”) for a glass before our evening’s main event.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw “blush wine” on the list (above).

I texted the image to Tracie P who replied swiftly: “that’s so 1982!”

As I sipped an insipid glass of sparkling white, I felt like I was living in a Nagel painting.

Above: Potatoes that had been simmered for eight hours and then fried at Genoa in Portland where I spoke at a wine dinner on Tuesday night. They were delicate and creamy in the middle, gently crunch on the outside and the caviar gave just the right amount of saltiness.

By the time I got to Oregon on Tuesday, I had been in eight cities in nine days: New York, Philadelphia, Houston, Austin, Los Angeles, San Diego, San Francisco, Seattle, and Portland. The lines from the Simon & Garfunkel song never rang more true: everyday’s an endless stream/of cigarettes and magazines/and each town looks the same to me/the movies and the factories…

Back in the “day,” when my band Nous Non Plus and the band that came before it used to tour aggressively, I was accustomed to the intense travel and a different hotel room every night, often waking up without remembering what town we were in.

But back then I was in my mid-thirties. Now I’m in my mid-forties.

Back then it was cheap beer and crappy food. Today, it’s fine wine and haute cuisine.

Back then I didn’t have anyone to go home to. Now I have a loving family more beautiful than I could ever have dreamed of.

Above: I loved the way the chefs at Genoa used color in their dishes. I had been invited by the restaurant’s wine director, Michael Garofola, to co-present his second annual Orange Wine dinner. It turned out I had to be in Seattle the day before so it worked out nicely.

On each night of the trip (except the last), my friend and client Paolo Cantele and I ate in a fabulous restaurant and met with local media to talk up his family’s wines and his new cooking school iSensi.

I’ve been documenting and will continue to post about our trip over on his CanteleUSA blog.

We called it the “Rolling Thunder Cantele USA 2013 Tour” and although the food was a lot better, it reminded me of my rock ‘n’ roll days, especially for the camaraderie between the two of us in the face of prolonged fatigue, weight-gain, and the disorientation that comes with such a heavy travel schedule.

Above: The pappardelle at Genoa were light in body but firm to the bite. I was so impressed by their food and it was wonderful to see what a vibrant food scene they have in Portland. It was also a thrilled to meet wine writers Allison Jones of Portland Monthly and Katherine Cole (whose newest book is called Complete Wine Selector), both such gracious ambassadors of Oregon wine and Portland’s gastronomy.

The last night I was on my own in Portland with a great group of wine and food lovers, who were so welcoming and so hospitable.

As much as a missed home and my girls, as much as my digestion took a beating (for the fatigue and over-indulgence, not the high caliber of the food), as much as I missed my own bed and my good-night kisses and good-morning hugs, I know that I am very fortunate to have the work that I do and to be living in the U.S.A. during this unrivaled renaissance of enogastronomy.

In eight cities, I saw, tasted, conversed, traded notes, and learned, learned, learned so much about what’s going on in our country culinarily speaking.

And in eight cities, I connected with people whom I know through our food and wine blogging community. This was a trip of hugs and “so great to finally meet you,” not handshakes and “thanks for your time.”

Above: I’d never met Genoa’s wine director Michael before. But thanks to social media, he and I knew that our palates align nearly seamlessly. Case in point was the Keber Collio that we drank at the end of the night after the dinner guests went home.

Still in a daze as I catch my breath and catch up on hugs, kisses, burps, diapers, and meals with my beautiful girls and my beautiful Tracie P, I find myself thinking about another song from the 60s, not as well known but one of my favorites.

Without going out of my door
I can know all things on Earth
Without looking out of my window
I could know the ways of Heaven

The farther one travels
The less one knows
The less one really knows

The meals were nearly all excellent and some truly superb. And I love the excitement of travel and meeting new people.

But I know that all these experiences are all the richer because of the virtual community that we’ve created over the last five years or so.

The experiences would mean so much but they mean even more because we’ve all connected through our computer screens and smart devices long before we ever met in person. And we’ll stay connected after our goodbyes.

Thanks for reading and keeping up with it all. I’ll begin posting more trip highlights next week.

Now it’s time to catch up on some spit up, a burp, a poopy diaper… and many, many, many overdue I-love-yous…

Everyday’s an endless stream
Of cigarettes and magazines
And each town looks the same to me
The movies and the factories
And every stranger’s face I see
Reminds me that I long to be…

Home, where my love lies waiting, silently for me…

See you on the other side…

As Merle Haggard sang it…

I wish Coke was still Cola
And a joint was a bad place to be
It was back before Nixon lied to us all on TV

And Brunello di Montalcino was still brightly colored, transparent Sangiovese…

What a thrill to taste this perfect bottle of 1971 Brunello di Montalcino by Argiano, shared with us on Saturday night at Jaynes Gastropub by San Diego wine writer and friend Robert Whitley (aka @WineGuru).

The wine was fresh and brilliant, with the classic Sangiovese flavors and balance that you expect from pre-climate change Montalcino. Unforgettable…

Thank you again, Robert!

Posting in a hurry on the last day of the ROLLING THUNDER CANTELE USA 2013 TOUR. Last night we were in San Francisco and today we’re on our way to Seattle.

So much to tell and so little time… Stay tuned…

“Following September 11, 2001, the Transportation Security Administration (TSA) was created to strengthen the security of the nation’s transportation systems and ensure the freedom of movement for people and commerce. Today, TSA secures the nation’s airports and screens all commercial airline passengers and baggage.”

(Source: TSA.gov.)

On Friday, Paolo and I waited for six hours at the Austin airport until our Los Angeles-bound flight was finally allowed to depart. Our plane was among the first to land at LAX after the airport had been closed in the wake of Friday morning’s shooting, a terrible and terrifying episode that took the life of a TSA agent.

Earlier in our day back in Texas, before news of the shooting broke, Paolo and I had watched a parade of Second World War veterans (see photo below) in wheel chairs as they passed through the main corridor of the airport to the applause of all those present.

When the veterans arrived at the terminal, they were greeted by a TSA honor guard.

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