April 2025: Issue 52
Notes from the Cellar, Trial and Pour, A Shot That Sticks, A Dip to Bite Back
by Joey Wolosz | Published April 2, 2025
A Note from Joey Wolosz
April opened with microphones and motor oil as Jeff and I found ourselves at a car club–turned–recording studio, guests on an upcoming episode of the Napa Valley Insider podcast. We shared stories of Gentleman Farmer wines, food, and the occasional detour.
Next up: lights, camera, and action. Airbnb Experiences is making a return, and thanks to an introduction from Cuvée Collective, we’re among the first in the Bay Area to be featured with our wine tasting at breakfast. Photo shoots ensued, wine was poured, and we stayed cool under the flash of the cameras.
In less photogenic news, my long march toward Polish citizenship has come to a halt. Despite every paperslip, birth certificate, and baptismal record in place, I’m told the trail ended in 1913 when my grandparents came through Ellis Island—five years too early for modern Polish statehood. Apparently, my grandparents were stateless. But hope’s not lost: their hometowns were once part of the former Hungarian Empire. There’s a second passport in play. I never saw myself as Hungarian, but I do make a mean goulash.
This week I’m in Tahoe, catching my breath and tinkering with recipes for our June tour-of-duty along the Mediterranean coast, ideas for the next season of our YouTube web series, and the ever-growing cookbook project.
In this issue: over 50 wines tasted in one sitting (don’t worry, we spit), an afternoon with a sharp-eyed photographer, and a sunshine-worthy recipe from the South of France.
Joey Wołosz
Vintner, Cook, Possibly Hungarian
Last week, I met with our winemaker Jérôme Chéry around my dad’s old oak desk covered with over fifty glasses of wine—barrel samples of Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon, each telling its own story. The goal: dial in our blends for summer bottling.
We tasted through barrels from a range of coopers—different forests, toast levels, stave thickness—all adding nuance and complexity to the final wine. Primary aromas come from the grape. Secondary aromas? That’s where the winemaker steps in and the barrels are part of this equation. The spice, the smoke, the subtle oak—that’s the craft.
The best part of blending is when a little magic shows up in the math. Sometimes one plus one can equal four.
After we landed on the final blends, Jeff—who patiently kept us fueled with black tea—tackled the mountain of stemware. He’s still recovering. Bottling is set for mid-July.
All in a day’s work, and the unavoidable dishpan hands that come with it.
Leigh-Ann Beverly walked into our bungalow with a camera around her neck and light in her eyes. It was clear from the start: she doesn’t just take photos—she captures moments with feeling. Her work is honest, kinetic, and deeply rooted in the human connection.
After years in the wine world, Leigh-Ann turned her lens toward the people and places behind the bottle, telling stories that might have otherwise gone unseen. Her photography is soulful and grounded, with just enough edge to keep you leaning in. We caught up recently to talk about creativity, curiosity, and the power of seeing the world one frame at a time.
You can find Leigh-Ann @makeitbonafide and bonafidepro.com.
Joey Wołosz: What is your background, and what inspired you to pursue art and photography?
Leigh-Ann Beverly: Creativity and music is deeply rooted in our family. My mom, dad, and brother are all very talented musicians. My parents took a lot of photographs. I remember holding them in my hands as a kid. The texture of the paper. The bokeh. Stopping time seemed like such a superpower. By nine I had my first still camera. By eleven I had my very own video camera. I camped out in the high school dark room. I filmed everything. After college in Charleston, South Carolina, I sold wine for eight years and was fortunate enough to meet a lot of fascinating humans who were fervently connected to the Earth. In 2011, I was hired to shoot harvest on the island of Madeira, at Vinhos Barbeito.
Game. Changer.
I saved so I could travel to as many tiny wine villages as possible. Taking notice of several captivating stories that were going untold. Instagram was about to visually transform storytelling. In 2013 doctors took skin cancer off of my ear and then just 5 weeks later my achilles fully ruptured in my soccer game. I assumed a higher power was trying to tell me something. I listened, reflected, and got down with some PT for over a year. In the fall of 2014 I left the distributor I worked for and found myself standing on the 400 million year old slate in the Mosel with Erni Loosen documenting the 2014 harvest for him. I am grateful that the locomotive is still smoking to this day. Onward, inward, and upward.
JW: What does your perfect day look like?
LB: Being alive. Meditation. Gratitude. Nature. Exercise. Connecting with humans. Creating. Making someone smile. Belly laughter. Great food. Eight hours of sleep.
JW: Who is your favorite artist, composer, or creator?
LB: Tough one. But… Bill Withers. He went from making toilet seats to writing some of the most cathartic songs about humanity and human experiences. He never wanted to be famous and was embarrassed because he stuttered. Singing came easier to him. I mean that voice, come on. His album, +’Justments, is one I will constantly be spinning.
JW: What was your first meaningful connection to wine and food?
LB: When my parents were still married they always cooked together and drank wine, while listening to music. Wine was food. We had a dinner bell. The dining room table was a sacred place for us and it continued to be when we became a family of three. I am very grateful for this as it’s the reason I have been in the wine business now for over 20 years.
JW: What are your other creative outlets?
LB: Playing my guitar. Dancing. Cooking. Jogging (creativity surges in motion for me). Producing food, wine, and music experiences. Doodling. Crafting thank you cards. Designing sneakers I do not need.
JW: If you could share a long, lingering meal with two people, who would they be?
LB: Sheesh, so many people I would love to break bread with. One of my all time crushes is Dave Letterman. Yup. I’d love to giggle with him and pick his brain about the brilliant people he’s conversed with throughout his life. Perhaps he’d drop some pointers for me on the art of interviewing. He’s a genius at this.
Tina Turner. She was an absolute goddess and massively inspirational in so many ways. Neither of them eat/ate meat so I would rock out a fresh local crudité platter with homemade hummus, cashew cream, and pesto. My “infamous” (I chuckle) massaged kale salad with local radishes, avocado, toasted pepitas, and a homemade zesty lemon vinaigrette. Crispy smashed garlic and parmesan potatoes. Oven roasted rainbow carrots with pistachios. Fresh Tarvin shrimp for some Gambas al Ajillo. AND if there’s room, no-bake peanut butter and chocolate bars. Now I am hungry. And listening to Tina Turner.
JW: What is your personal motto or guiding principle?
LB: These are written on sticky notes and placed around my life at all times. Radiate love. Go bravely; go deeply – or do not go. Do the right thing when no one is watching. Feed the dream. Never stop dancing. Sing at the top of your lungs. Where attention goes, energy flows. The only way is through. And I always loved Ralph Waldo Emerson’s quote that says, “The greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”
Aïoli is not just mayo’s fancy French cousin—it’s garlic-driven, unapologetically bold, and meant to be slathered, dipped, or dolloped without restraint. Some may tell you it should only be garlic, egg yolk, and oil. Others whisk in lemon and maybe a little mustard. I take some liberty, and I let the ingredients weave their way into an emulsion that tastes like summer on the Mediterranean.
I make it by hand with a mortar and pestle when I’m feeling tactile and romantic, but more often with a whisk and a bowl. If pressed for time, I will use a blender or food processor. The goal isn’t perfection—it’s punch. Serve it with crudités, roasted potatoes, poached fish, or spooned into a sandwich in place of anything less exciting. It should be garlicky, yes, but not hostile. Sharp but charming. Like any good, fine companion at your table.
This month, I am serving this with vegetables, crusty bread, and our Gentleman Farmer Napa Valley Rosé.
