Full Belly Files | Both Sides of Baja, Part Two

A morning scene at El Cielo

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Although chronologically earlier, this is part two of my trips to Baja California that bookended March. Part one from last week was about spring break Cabo San Lucas at the end of the month, and this one covers Valle de Guadalupe from the beginning of March.

It was L.A. Marathon Sunday on March 8, but I was still making great time driving from Santa Barbara to Baja California as I bobbed and weaved through traffic from 101 to the 405. I was alone and on my way to report a story for Wine Enthusiast about Valle de Guadalupe, which is Mexico’s primary wine country, located about 90 minutes south of the Tijuana border.

I’d driven through Baja a few times before, and have visited other parts of Mexico a good deal over the past decade. But I’d never made it to Valle, despite its recently surging reputation, which includes about 200 wine brands and five Michelin-starred restaurants in an area smaller than the Santa Ynez Valley. I also hadn’t crossed the land border in about a dozen years.

My plan was to get through Tijuana’s traffic long before dark, pull into Valle’s upscale El Cielo Resort around 3 p.m., and have plenty of time to make my dinner reservation at the Michelin-starred Olivea Café that evening. The travel gods had other plans.

I’d just pulled onto the 405 around 11 a.m. when traffic began to build in the canyon between Bel Air and the Getty Center. Then, suddenly, my 2010 Ford F-150 — which I inherited from my dad when he died in 2013 — suddenly started freaking out. All of the lights and displays started flickering in Poltergeist-y ways, frenetic clicking noises sounded from an unknown part of the dashboard, and it became abundantly clear that I needed to get off the now jam-packed freeway.

“This is what the hazard lights are for,” I remembered. I clicked that button, slowly pulled toward the right lane, and immediately felt thankful that this was at least happening to me and not my 16-year-old son, whose driver’s license test was that coming Thursday. I managed to get off safely at the Getty Center exit, pull onto a safe spot along Sepulveda Boulevard, and call AAA.

The woman could tell over the phone that my alternator had died, so despite my request for a battery truck, a proper tow truck arrived. The driver was proudly Chicano from the hoods of South L.A., and laughed in a friendly way when I explained that I was on my way to Mexico from Santa Barbara and needed to get this fixed within hours.

I considered rescheduling the trip. But I’d spent so much time putting together my three days of appointments — including one that involved people flying down to meet me — and my deadline was imminent. I was further tempted when the tow truck driver said that my AAA account would have covered a haul back to Santa Barbara, but I decided that cancelling was not a viable option, unless there became no other choice.

He started calling every repair shop from Hollywood to South L.A., and they were either all closed or unable to get an alternator due to the marathon. “What about the valley?” I asked, pointing just north on 405, away from the race. He was down, and I found a spot in Van Nuys called Car Care Auto Repair that could fix an alternator that day.

My Armenian bros at Car Care Auto Repair

I learned a lot about the tow truck business on the way there, namely that there’s a lot of bullying and borderline illegal activity that goes on when it comes to roadside assistance. The repair shop was owned and operated by Armenians, so I was quick to mention that I’d spent a month in Armenia decades ago and then offered them one of the wine bottles I’d brought for the trip. They were great — multiple customers told me I’d lucked into the best spot around.

Not so great was that part of Van Nuys, which, even in the unseasonably hot midday sun, was sketchier than anything I’d ever seen in Mexico. I skipped out on the ok Chinese for lunch — it did not look okay at a quick glance — and instead found solid Salvadoran cuisine at a spot called Calle Viejo, enjoying tamales and pupusas with Suprema beer.

When I returned to the repair shop, the first alternator wouldn’t charge the battery, so they ordered a second, which required more waiting around. Thankfully, that one worked, so the truck was back in action after this three-plus hour detour.

Being past 3 p.m. with four, maybe five more hours of driving, I realized that I’d be entering Mexico at dusk, and then tackling the country backroads into Valle de Guadalupe at dark. Though not ideal, I wasn’t overly concerned, as I’ve driven all around the world, including in postwar zones, on unfamiliar, slightly treacherous roads at night.

But with February’s Mexican cartel news still in the headlines, everyone else I was in contact that afternoon with started worrying about my safety, which only made me more nervous. I happened to take a phone call with a lawyer about a totally different story while on the road, and he totally bugged me out — saying that “no story was worth dying for,” and that I should just stay in a motel at the border for the night. “If I’m scaring you,” he said. “I’m glad.”

Properly shaken as I approached San Diego, I reached out to a couple of my Mexican contacts. They reassured me — one after double-checking with someone who’d just taken that route — that I would probably be fine, especially since the coastal highway from Tijuana to Ensenada starts on its own elevated route right after the border these days. So I kept on trucking.

There was no delay crossing the border into Mexico, although I was briefly stopped by the authorities, likely because my empty truck bed was sealed shut. Next up was finding that elevated road to safety. It was, as advertised, right there, but blocked by orange cones that evening — apparently for the annual International Women’s Day demonstration, I’d later learn. So much for the easy way through TJ.

As I slid deeper into the hectic border metropolis — a much more substantial city than I remembered, now with skyscrapers rising on the skyline — my map apps were spinning in circles. I missed suggested-right-turn after suggested-right-turn, as Mexico’s abruptly placed street signs arrows mostly indicate that you’ve already passed the correct road. I wound up rolling down an empty downtown street (slightly concerning) and then slid into a chaotic roundabout that was oddly broken up by impossible-to-see traffic lights. No one was abiding by the traffic lights except the guy in front of me, so I didn’t know whether to honk or just wait.

I did the latter, and something somewhere eventually turned green, sending me on my way, up through the crumbling hills and finally onto the coastal toll road, which gratefully took dollars as well as pesos. The two-lane El Mision mountain road from the coast into Valle — which saves time versus the highway that requires driving almost all the way to Ensenada before heading back north — was pitch black but in good shape, though I managed to miss a couple more poorly marked turns before the drive was over.

My “room” at El Cielo. Don’t worry, I only got the bottom floor.

Room service tortilla soup after a long day at El Cielo

By the time I rolled into El Cielo Resort, it was approaching 9 p.m. I’d already called Olivea to cancel my dinner plans there — the only actual appointment casualty of my whole ordeal, along with a falconry demo at the resort — and was really looking forward to room service and bedtime after such an exhausting day.

El Cielo was just the comfort I needed. It is Valle’s most intensely developed property, with large two-story villas that can be rented out in full as well as a chapel, large manmade lake, extensive vineyards, winery, and on-site restaurant. There’s more on the way too, with even grander plans expected to roll out soon.

I’d already heard that such development makes many Valle neighbors — especially those who appreciate the region’s more modest farmer-vintner upbringing — a bit suspicious of what this could mean for the region’s future. But the fully appointed resort is sure to make any Valle visitor who can afford it feel at home — even those with the most luxurious of tastes.

I was their guest for two nights, and my downstairs suite — which was close to the size of my suburban Goleta home — made a very comfortable homebase for exploring Valle. That first evening’s room service delivery of chicken tortilla soup and Caesar salad was just what I needed upon my exhausted arrival, and that sort of attention to detail extended into every other interaction I had there.

Bluefin sashimi at El Cielo’s Latitud 32

I spent the following evening with the team at El Cielo, meeting up with the founder Gustavo Ortega Joaquín and winemaker Jesús Rivera. We began by walking through the more than 30 acres of vineyard they own in Valle, and that doesn’t count the larger vineyard they own to the south in San Jacinto.

Though only planted a dozen or so years ago, many of the Valle vines are being replanted right now as the property moves toward organic and regenerative farming. The goal is to be 100 percent organic by 2030, said Ortega, who is also promoting other sustainable projects, like becoming a B Corp. “We are the first vineyard in Mexico to use solar panels,” explained Ortega, who was formerly the mayor of Cozumel and tourism director for Quintana Roo before bringing his tourism dreams to Baja.

An honest passion for wine is really what lured both Ortega and his wife, renowned Mexican sommelier Georgina Estrada, to Valle. Among other extensive enological pursuits, Ortega is very interested in discovering the true origins of Mexican nebbiolo, a popular variety in Valle but one whose original “name was erased,” he said. Ortega and others believe that it truly is a grape called “Lambrusca di Alessandria,” which, like nebbiolo, is from the Piedmonte region of Italy.

Ortega even visited the grape’s supposed home in search of an indigenous example, but has so far come up short, as Lambrusca di Alessandria turns out to be exceedingly rare even in its homeland. That only makes Mexican nebbiolo more special, said Ortega, explaining, “You can’t find it anywhere else.”

Our tour included a tasting of many El Cielo wines and then a dinner at their Michelin-listed restaurant, Latitud 32, which is a fusion of Yucatan and Baja cuisines. The kitchen prepared a multicourse menu, each dish paired with wine. There were three amuse bouche, including sikil pak and cucumber pibil, and then bluefin sashimi in pipián salsa; edam cheese stuff with mariscos; pork belly taco in chilmole sauce; grilled lamb Baja-style; and guava mousse. It was a flavorful affair, and just the right amount of food.

Beyond El Cielo, I’ll save a full rundown of my visits for the Wine Enthusiast article. But there were a few Santa Barbara connections that some readers may recognize.

I spent the last night with the couple who inspired this trip to begin with: Nathan Malagón and Verónica Santiago, who I met last year and wrote about in this Full Belly File. It was cool to see their estate winery Mina Penélope and stay on a knoll next to their vineyard in a shipping container-turned-bedroom. We dined together that night on the woodfired cuisine of Primitivo.

I also met up with Javier Flores from South Coast Winery in Temecula, who I have written about before as well. He is from Tijuana, and learned to be a winemaker from pioneer Camillo Magoni before heading to Temecula. The Casa Magoni family welcomed me with wide open, warm arms for a lovely afternoon under an old oak tree.

Valle legend Camillo Magoni, Matt, and Temecula winemaker Javier Flores

Those who know Fingers Crossed Wine in Ojai may have run into Baja-raised, globe-hopping winemaker Nikolai Rudametkin, as he worked there for a harvest. I didn’t meet Nikolai in person, as he was in Argentina, but we did chat on the phone when he was in Uruguay. He connected me with his family’s wineries, La Lomita and Finca la Carrodilla, both of which make excellent, organically grown wines.

Many readers, especially those working in Santa Barbara restaurants and bars from the early 2000s to 2012, may remember Kristin Magnussen. Born in Camarillo, she studied culinary at SBCC before helping to reopen the Wine Cask with Doug Margerum and Mitchell Sjerven and also managed Sharkeez for a while. She now runs Vinos Lechuza wines in Valle, which her father founded about 20 years ago before he died suddenly a few years back. I’d highly encourage you to flex your Santa Barbara ties and go visit Kristin soon.

And then there’s a direct Full Belly Files connection to this whole trip as well. Legendary winemaker Randy Ullom — who made America’s best-selling wine, Kendall-Jackson’s California chardonnay, three decades ago — is a regular reader of this newsletter. When he saw me write about Mina Penélope last year, he suggested that I meet his longtime colleague Tony Viramontes, who was born in Mexico but managed Northern California vineyards for decades. He was now making wine in Baja, said Randy, so we should meet up.

And we did, touring Tony’s coastal vineyard and tasting his West Soul and Juego de Pelota wines. Then we shared an awesome lunch of lobster tacos on the bluffs overlooking Salsipuedes, Cuatro Cuatros, and the Ensenada Bay.

By the time I drove home on Wednesday morning, I’d really only spent two full days in Valle de Guadalupe. Despite the rough start, it was certainly an effective, action-packed introduction to a Baja region with real soul — certainly compared to what we found in Cabo. But it was really just a tiny taste, so I’ll be back, hopefully soon, and ideally without truck trouble.

Food & Drink Tix to Buy

Grand Wine Tasting Booth | Credit: Courtesy

Spring seems to be the peak food and drink festival season around Santa Barbara, so here are some tickets you may want to buy before they’re sold out.

Natural Coast Next Weekend: I profiled four new wineries coming to the Natural Coast Wine festival next Saturday, April 25. Check naturalcoastwinefest.com to see if tickets are still available.

S.B. Culinary Experience in Early May: There are about 75 events to choose from during the Santa Barbara Culinary Experience, which runs from May 11 to 17 this year. The big shabang is the Grand Tasting on Saturday, May 16, with dozens of wineries and restaurants serving on the grounds of the Presidio. (Buy those tickets here.).

But there are many other smaller events throughout the week, ideal for ages and interests of all kinds. Many will sell out, so here’s a quick day-by-day rundown of two highlights from each day that still have tickets.

May 11: Cheese the Day! cheese and wine pairing on The Canary’s rooftop and The Turquoise Fish, a lingcod class at Dom’s Taverna
May 12: Specialty Latte Crafting, a custom coffee syrup class at Little King Coffee and The Farmer + The Cook + The Winemaker, the annual dinner at bouchon.
May 13: Farm Tour and Flower Picking at Gaviota Harris Farm and From the Tap to the Table, a showcase of Singaporean hawker foods at Lama Sama.
May 14: Sky Net + Adventure Taco Lunch, pairing zip lines and Tacos El Bacha in Buellton and Beer Ice Cream Tasting at Naughty Oak in Orcutt.
May 15: Lavender Bliss Martini Class and Lunch at Jane in Goleta and Meet the Farmer Tour and Tasting at Folded Hills.
May 16: Candied Lemon Zest & Sherbert at Domecil Studio in Victoria Court and Farmland Flavors Pasture to Picnic at Mission Santa Ines.
May 17: Butter Garden Party at Dart in the Funk Zone and Red Oak Master Grilling Class at the Hitching Post II in Buellton.

That’s really just a peek at what you can experience. See the full lineup here.

The Wilderness Table at Larner Vineyard in June: Los Padres ForestWatch is hosting this year’s Wilderness Table fundraiser at the Larner Vineyard in Ballard Canyon on Sunday, June 7, 4-8 p.m. The event features welcome cocktails by Rock 12 Distillery and then food by Chef Brett Stephen from High on the Hog. Larner Winery will provide the wines on the organically farmed vineyard where they’re grown. For tickets and details, see forestwatch.org/wildernesstable.