The Country by the Connoisseurs

Working in the premium home-theater business, Ive had the pleasure, and the
pain, of interacting with audiophiles. An audiophile is a connoisseur of speakers,
amplifiers, and the science and nature of sound generation. They speak a language made
up of foreign technicalities that go beyond any vernacular Ive ever learned through
training; but thankfully, theyre men that prefer not to speak. When they walk into our
showroom, we greet them, they respond, and then they quietly make their way to our
high fidelity sound-room. On occasion, Ive glanced through the great soundproof
doors, where Ive witnessed the audiophile in his preferred habitat. Alone with his craft,
this connoisseur of noise is like some hysterical scientist on the verge of a breakthrough.
These men place their ears directly up to tweeters, using their arms to pull the speaker
close to their ear, searching for the break up in high frequencies. They meticulously
fondle with equalizers, artificially bending the nature of sound that projects from drivers
and woofers, searching for that perfect combination of power, hum, and articulation.
They seek inaccuracies, and then obsess to correct them. Audiophiles are not simply
hobbyists, theyre self-proposed experts. And no matter what they hear, theyre seldom
satisfied.
My two long-time friends and film collaborators, Michael Higginbotham and
Matthew Nerney ride driver and shotgun. Im in the backseat, the left side of my head
propped against a sweater, nurturing a swollen lymph node below my ear, an annoyance
Ive dealt with for the last few years, but refused to have seen. My face is buried in my
phone, watching our little GPS insignia track along a purple, highlighted route 87 miles

to go. With Matthew at the helm, our cherry-red Nissan Rogue, a rental too big for me to
drive, putters along the long stretch that is the Pacific 101, heading into Santa Barbara
from Los Angeles. Were trekking into the hills of wine country on a mission as selfproclaimed film connoisseurs. Were following the trail of one of our favorite
filmmakers, Alexander Payne. In 2004, Payne wrote and directed a film called Sideways,
adapted from a novel by Rex Pickett, starring Paul Giamatti and Thomas Haden Church.
The film chronicles the journey of two middle-aged friends, Miles (Giamatti) and Jack
(Church), as they make one last bachelors excursion from LA into Santa Ynez wine
country, before Jack is to be married. As Payne aficionados, weve planned our own
excursion into the Santa Ynez Valley to track down one of the vineyards that was used in
the film.
After two hours of highway driving, our route ends deep in the hills of the Santa
Rita AVA (American Viticultural Area) in the small city of Buellton. Our destination is
the Alma Rosa Winery and Vineyards, a 100-acre tract founded and operated by Richard
Sanford, a Central Coast legend known for his long-standing history with winemaking in
the Santa Ynez region and his notable recognition and practice of organic harvesting.
Sanford put Santa Ynez on the map in the late 1960s after discovering the areas
incredible soil conditions as nearly perfect for the type of highly acidic grapes associated
with popular wines like Pinot Noir and Chardonnay. He ran the vineyards under his own
name, Sanford Winery, with his wife and business partner, Thekla Brumder, for over
thirty years, before the pair decided to pursue a new business model, focusing on a more
organic style of growing and distribution. In lieu of these changes, the company label
changed to Alma Rosa Vineyards in 2005. In Sideways, Alma Rosa is the very first

winery that Miles and Jack visit, at the time operating as under the Sanford name. In the
scene, Miles, a wine connoisseur, shares his ritual employment of senses specifically
sight, smell, and taste with the less attuned Jack, who downs his glass of Chardonnay
with a piece of chewing gum still in his mouth. My friends and I plan to emulate this
tasting session (minus the chewing gum), while exploring an actual location from one of
our favorite films.
Crossing into Buellton, we take Santa Rosa Rd. off the main highway and head
west. Were in wide-open country, nothing but rolling green hills for miles; pastures, that
in their dips and peaks, eventually plateau into more even elevations. Yellows and
browns, mix with the earthly greens of the grasses and distant mountain ranges, a staple
of surreal beauty right out of an oil pastel, not unlike the paintings that one can find
hanging in the waiting room at the local dentist. My GPS indicates that Alma Rosa is just
a few feet ahead. A small wooden placard, engraved with the company logo, and tasting
hours (11:00-4:30) hangs before a long dirt path that winds through an open vineyard.
We turn onto the path and drive straight for about half a mile. Were beset on both sides
of the path by hundreds of rows of grapevines. Twisted and root-like, the plants are early
in their development, appearing almost alien without their leaves and grapes. A lowhanging wire-fence stretches the entire length of each row of plants, partitioning these
early plants into sections. We approach another wooden sign beset at a fork in the gravel
pathway. The placard declares private property on the right, but an entrance to the
winery on the left. Taking the left route, we drive up a small hill that evens out into a
large dirt lot. There are five vehicles on the lot, not counting our own. This is the place.
The three of us, like a pack of anxious children on Christmas morning, are eager to walk

the soils once inhabited by Payne and crew. We park near a green F-150, the last in the
row of vehicles, and exit our rental.
One would have mistaken the main tasting quarters as a large abandoned shed if
signs hadnt decorated the path leading to the property. The mountain shack and
surrounding landscape is part of the Rancho El Jabali (Spanish for Ranch of the Wild
Boar), one of two main vineyards on the Alma Rosa land, purchased by Sanford in 1982,
and planted the following year. Sanford and Thekla also live on this site. The shacks
rusting tin roof is made up of multiple sheets of metal, bolted one to another; the color of
sheets alternating between red, chrome, and black. Dark wood paneling, splintered and
worn runs down the sides of the shack to an orange-brick foundation. A patch of cacti,
tall and sentient, adorned with orange flowers, stands guard in front of a great picture
window. An arrangement of what looks like tree limbs are fixed to a tin awning that
hangs over the front door, forming a makeshift sun-shield over a set of patio furniture. A
small screened-in hut, the same wood and foundation as the winery, is separate from this
patio area. Three guests, a couple in their mid to late 60s, and a man, late 40s, sit
amongst the patio furniture.
The inside of the shack is the winerys tasting room, a fairly modern space, with a
sort of rustic charm, particularly roof and floor. The roof of the shack is pitched high in
the middle, sloping towards the walls. Certain rows of the tin sheets are slightly
translucent, letting in sunlight. The floor is a myriad of red and brown stone-tiles, all
different sizes and shapes. Beige oaken cabinets and bookshelves, filled with hardback
titles on viticulture and other crafts, line one whole wall; a framed map-photo of

California hangs in the gap between shelf units. The attendant, standing behind a Ushaped wooden counter, quietly greets us as we walk in.
How are we today, gentleman?
Matthew responds: Good, good thank you.
The attendant is conducting a tasting with what appears to be a family of three.
Behind them, waiting their turn, are two younger gentlemen, late 20s, dressed sharp,
button downs and dress pants. The family at the counter: a man and woman, well into
their 50s; and a younger woman, early 30s or so, who I imagine to be their daughter.
They all wear similar garb, business casual dresses and a white button down for the
husband/father. Im noting clothes because Matt and Mike are dressed in cardigans and
khakis; Im the only one here in a loose polo and baggy jeans. Apparently, I missed a
memo.
Six black bottles of wine sit on top of the counter, one near full, and the others
close to empty, the Alma Rosa label affixed to each of them. The family holds three wine
glasses in their hands, the remnants of what appears to be some kind of Pinot in each of
their glasses, a red liquid, somewhat opaque. Theyre taking their time with it, sipping
slowly, swishing the contents in their mouths. They mutter amongst one another, but not
one of us is listening to what theyre saying. Obviously, the family is unaware that
theyre in the presence of a celebrity. The three of us have our sights set on the man
behind the counter Chris Burroughs. As Sideways aficionados, we immediately
recognize Chris from his one-minute of fame. Hes the attendant on-duty when Miles and
Jack walk into Sanford; he pours their wine and stands idol as Miles teaches his Jack how
to dissect a glass of 2004 Pinot Blanc. Chris even has one line: Miles asks him to confirm

that the Blanc is brand new, to which Chris responds, Yup... brand new. Researching
the winery, Alma Rosas website mentions Burroughs on their staff page, addressing his
short role in the film. As a fan-boy, I cant get over the connectedness of fictional film to
reality; Chris looks and sounds exactly like he does in Sideways. Chris strikes me as a
middle-aged crossbreed between a hippie and a cowboy, fixed with a peachy set of brown
eyes, a white scraggly beard, and a tall, white cowboy hat to match, the same one he
wears in the movie.
After another minute or so, the family hands Chris their glasses, thank him, and
walk out of the tasting room. Through the glass panel of the front door, I see them take
their seats at a patio table. Chris motions to all five of us the businessmen and our
group. Gentlemen, thank you all for being so patient. One of the men, the taller of the
two, deep voice, answers for all of us: Not a problem glad to. We all approach the
counter. So, my friends, will it be red or white today? We all choose red, except for
Matt. Alright, alright. Beautiful. Burroughs is more than pleased with our choice of
colors. No matter what the man says, it sounds like he just woke up from the happiest nap
in the universe. Its a round of three on each end. Chris reaches under the counter and
presents the five of us with our glasses. Placing them on the counter, he selects the
furthest wine bottle to the left. First up for white Pinot Blanc, 2012. Chris pours
Matts glass and gestures for him to take it off the table.
I have an uncle in the wine-tasting business, but Ive never been to his shop. Up to
this point in our lives, the only model that the three of us have for proper wine tasting is
Paul Giamatti. I also never drink. So to my judgment, Matt plays the part of the refined
taster pretty well although a little fast. He sips, swishes the drink around in his mouth,

and then swallows it. Chris motions to the rest of us: For the reds, a Pinot Noir. Santa
Rita Hills, 2012. Chris pours the four of us a glass of the deep-red blend, and gestures
As we claim our glasses, he turns back to Matt: Whatd you think? His response is
clumsy. Umm... definitely... good.
Ah yes. Right on, brother. This guy is amazing. Matt could have said it tasted
like sewage, and Im sure Chris would have thought it was the best answer hed ever
heard. Mike daintily holds his glass, examining its contents. We all feel like were being
judged, and I can tell hes trying to appear thoughtful. He sips and swishes. Mikes
reaction is narrow, but less stilted than Matts. Good. Tart. We have no clue what
were talking about. In this congregation of Sideways fandom, Im certainly the uneducated Haden Church of the bunch. My glass in hand, my mind runs blank of any and
all etiquette. I swig my entire glass like an animal, expecting the sweet settling of fruit
punch, not understanding or ready for the nature of wine. The fool that I am, I might as
well have been chewing gum. The alcohol hits me hard, turning my face up a few
degrees. I can feel my ears and cheeks begin to swell, along with my stomach. Luckily,
Burroughs has his eyes on the bottle, pouring for the two other men. Out of the corner of
my eye, I catch Mike smirking at me. He knows that were all virginal to the display and
technique of fine wine consumption, but that Im clearly the biggest idiot of us all. I look
over to the businessmen; theyre holding their glasses up, letting sunlight from a window
pass through the liquid. Suddenly, it hits me that I know what theyre doing, but only
because Ive seen Sideways.
In a flash, the scene jumps into my head. After being served by Burroughs, Miles
holds his glass up, explaining this action to Jack: First thing, hold the glass up and

examine the wine against the light. Youre looking for color and clarity. Just get a sense
of it. The room is silent. We watch the businessmen, these models of efficiency and
practice. Slowly, they bring their glasses down from the rays of sunlight and onto the
counter; theyre quiet. Next, Miles tilts his glass against the counter; he instructs Jack:
Alright, now tip it. What youre doing here is checking for color density as it thins out
towards the rim. The businessmen skip the second step. Still, they play the part of
connoisseurs much better than us. Their final action, before their sips, is back in line with
Miles methods. Now, stick your nose in it. Dont be shy, really get your nose in there.
Miles does so himself and reacts to the aromas of his Pinot. A little citrus... maybe some
strawberry... passion fruit... The businessmen sniff their drinks, their faces stern and
focused. Finally, they take their sips. Burroughs, still and smiling, awaits their responses.
So do we. The tall one swallows first, followed by a moment of calculation. He looks
directly at Burroughs: Thats immaculate. His partner agrees.
My embarrassment swells as Chris reaches for the next bottle, I gaze around the
room, trying to appear engaged with anything else but wine. My eyes settle on a table
behind the businessmen, perched against a window. A Sonos Connect: Amp sits in the
middle, speaker-wire running from the unit into two Sonos: Play Speakers. We sell this
line of hi-fi at the store. Generally, audiophiles hate Sonos. Shit sounds like mud, one
client told me, before proceeding to leave the showroom. To me, the culture of
connoisseurs is an amalgam of dedication and particularity. These men have put in a lot
of time just listening to sounds, and in doing so, have discovered what they think sounds
best. The same can be said of Miles-style wine tasting. The correct approach takes time.
Plus, Sideways is just a work of fiction. And, Im a city-boy; Im not expected to

understand the customs of country-etiquette. And anyways, Ill drink it better the second
time. These are some of the things I try to tell myself before were each handed our
second rounds of Pinot, more 2012s. Our Noir straight from the La Encantada, Matts
Blanc as well.

I take a sip and try to swish, but its just too tart. I swallow hard, and the shame
and alcohol all mix together. Hives start to appear on my ears. My friends drink once in
awhile, so theyre dealing with this much better than myself, but the businessmen are just
experts. Im personally intimidated, and I dont even know their names. They know we
have no idea what were doing, so any new action on our end will just look like were
copying their swag. Third rounds go much the same. Noir, 2012, El Jabali. Blanc, 2012,
Jabali as well. Burroughs has been quiet this whole process, letting us run with our
senses. But with this last round, I make him smirk. Attempting to appear collected, I sniff
the contents of my drink, pretending to analyze. My nose moves past any semblance of
fruit and straight to the alcohol. When I go to take my sip, it hits the wrong pipe, and I
cough wine back into my glass; at this point, I might as well be chewing a whole pack of
gum. Everyone finishes, and we all hand our glasses back to Chris and pay up fifteen
dollars for three glasses. The businessmen thank Burroughs, and bid us all a good day,
before exiting the shack. Im ready to head out myself, when Matt speaks up: So, Mr.
Burroughs. How was it serving wine to Paul Giamatti?
This is what we came here for, this is what were good at, what were particular
about loving movies and really digging Alexander Payne. Chris lights up at Matts
question: Man, that was such a great time. Shit, ten years ago now! We cant help

ourselves, we forget our embarrassments and dive headlong into Sideways conversation.
Those were such cool guys, and it was really touching that they picked us for the scene,
over some other great vineyards. Apparently, Alma Rosa gets a lot of Sideways fans,
year to year. People still travel from all over. They hit up Santa Barbara, just because of
that movie. We ask if he actually likes the film: Oh yeah, right on. We ask if hes ever
wanted to act in anything else: Nah, spur of the moment thing. On the Internet Movie
Database, Chriss only film credit is for Sideways. His listed role is Chris at Sanford.
Im still a little beaten down from my tasting experience, but Im dying to ask Chris
something. I need to. And finally, I force it out:
Mr. Burroughs...
Please. Chris.
Oh, sorry. Chris...what... what was it like working with Alexander Payne?
He was particular, man. If, like, a bottle wasnt in the shot the right way, hed
walk over to it himself, turn it, like, a quarter of an inch, then say, Alright, now were
ready. Awesome guy, though. Really smart.
I couldnt have asked for a better answer.
We tell Chris that were filmmakers, and explain how much of an influence Payne
is on our own work. As expected, Chris thought this was excellent, but we knew his
hip-excitement was genuine. After talking for a little longer, we decide its time to head
out. We thank Burroughs for the talk and for the wine, and he thanks us for the visit:
And please, come back again fellas.
Sideways was filmed on location throughout Santa Barbara, not exclusively in Buellton.
Our next stop, on the trail of Miles and Jack, as self-proclaimed Payne aficionados, is the
Danish-themed town of Solvang. I plan on leaving any Dansk Mjod Viking Blood that

I find to the real drinkers, because lets face it; Ill never gracefully dissect and consume
like Giamatti, but Im just glad to take the ride.