There are sounds that ground me in the world, familiar noises, like the insistent buzz of summer cicadas, the sudden onset of heavy rain, or the pitch of the tuning fork’s four hundred and forty vibrations per second. Some sounds signal stability, like the A above middle C, while others indicate potential, like the warm mwaah of an awakening computer, the whisper of a morning prayer, or the uncorking of a bottle of wine. One of the most exciting and inviting sounds to me is the solid crack of a cue striking a tightly racked triangle of billiard balls, like a block of ice hitting the floor, followed by the felt-muffled dispersal, and the blessed silence when none have fallen. The table is open; the choice is yours.

This week’s tasting schedule at Oakland Yard rings out like a hard, clean eightball break, with so many options, it quickens the heart to consider one’s next move. In addition to our wines by the glass, which are available every day, we’ve reinstated weekly Thursday flights, and this week we also have special guests behind the bar pouring featured libations on both Friday evening and Saturday afternoon. Chalk it up and strategize!

Tonight, we’re pouring tres blancos de Catalunya, y rossos di Toscana, Piemonte, e d’Abruzzo. Tomorrow, our good friend Matt Gerloff, who helped us unload the flatbed of steel that became the bones of Oakland Yard, and who just returned from France and Italy, will open wines from the Loire Valley, the Savoie, Piedmont, and the Veneto. And this Saturday, third-generation Oakland Native and unmatched mix-master, Jared Murray, will offer up three fruity flavors of our favorite California Aperitifs from Mommenpop.

TONIGHT 8/11: THURSDAY NIGHT FLIGHTS - Spanish Whites and Italian Reds: Avinyo Petillant, Celler Frisach L’Abrunet Garnacha Blanca, Ulls de Mel Xarel-lo, Ampeleia Un Litro, Scavino Azelia Nebbiolo, and Tatone Montepulciano. $15 Flights from 5-9pm and wines by the glass until 9 too.

FRIDAY NIGHT 8/19: FRENCH & ITALIAN wines imported by KERMIT LYNCH
Special guest MATT GERLOFF pours flights of four wines - Cabernet Franc, Nebbiolo, Jacquere and Manzoni Bianco. Come witness Matt’s voluminous hair, prodigious knowledge, and generous spirit, while sampling some of Kermit’s finest! - $15 flights from 5-8pm and wines by the glass until 9pm.

SATURDAY AFTERNOON 8/20: MOMMENPOP APERITIF FLIGHTS
Special guest JARED MURRAY pours flights of Mommenpop Grapefruit, Seville Orange and Blood Orange spritzes. $15 flights from 2-6 and wines by the glass until 9pm.

Also, our friends across the street at SLANT VINTAGE are throwing a GRAND OPENING party this SATURDAY from 12-6pm with My Friend Fernando tortas! Now that sounds like a Saturday afternoon plan!

Choose your combo - or go ahead and run the table,

Max

I was driving home this week listening to an old playlist and a song by Amy Winehouse came on. I hadn't heard her music in a long while and was feeling it. When the song finished, my four year old in her car seat behind me concluded: "Dad, she sounded really sneaky...". I suppose she picked up on some of the chorus from "You Know I'm No Good", but I still appreciated her primary impression.

Last week a new employee, Natsumi, and I were discussing how people talk about wine, the impressions and verbiage that goes beyond "strawberry" or "grapefruit". Talking about the possibilities and limitations of language and how we ultimately try to find some agreement on a shared and understood vocabulary. We feel mostly ok talking in curious stretches about music or film. Pink Floyd might be described as sonic or atmospheric. One might say there is tension in some particular song, whether from Radiohead or Miles Davis. A certain band might succinctly be described as fun. And many folks will nod without much challenge. Someone might decide a film is "for them" after it being labelled simply scary or even jarring. Or, conversely, feel-good, funny, or perhaps action-packed!.

But all the adjectives and efforts can be a bit baffling with wine for some reason. How does one describe Carignan to another? Or Vermentino? What about the character of Sicilian wines - or those from the Canary Islands? Folks seem to want to hear more than: it is earthy or fruity or tannic. But we might be (rightfully) challenged going beyond that: What do you mean salty?! Or... Smoky? Spicy? Chewy? Honest? Pure? Rustic? Etc. We may describe wines with higher acidity as being bright or even refreshing. But then it can get somewhat interpretive. Can we say a wine is lively and be in accord? What about Playful? Vibrant? Joyful? We think so, but again, we recognize it's all a bit silly (or playful, I suppose;).

Ultimately, the best way to have some agreement realized (or challenged) is to have a shared experience. Exiting the same movie we can engage in more meaningful discourse. When a song is blasting and we are all out on the floor, moving or spinning or bouncing or flailing, we can quite clearly agree that the groove is catchy. Or infectious. Or simply, fun.

Here's to shared experiences. And opportunities abound at OAKAND YARD... In addition to our usual wines by the glass available everyday, weekly flights have returned and we have special guest winemakers and importers behind the bar pouring curated flights of their wines each weekend! It is action-packed here! TONIGHT 8/11: Thursday Night Flights... New French Whites and Reds from California Reds. Your choice. Flights from 5-9pm and wines by the glass until close.

FRIDAY 8/12 NIGHT: TERAH WINE CO. Special Tasting w/ Winemaker and rising star, Terah Bajjalieh, pouring a flight of her wines from 5-8pm! A sommelier and winemaker, Terah studied enology and viticulture in both Spain and France. She completed 13 harvests in five countries, including France, Australia, Argentina, Willamette Valley, Sierra Foothills, Sonoma and Napa. Come taste some delicious and dynamic wines from her current lineup - sustainable and organic offerings made with great care and minimal intervention … bright and balanced and, above all, very delicious.

SATURDAY 8/13: French Flights with special guest (and actual French person:) Paul Duroussay, pouring wines made by his friends and family in France - and other selections from his excellent Pierreclos Imports portfolio. Flights $15 from 2-6 and wines by the glass until 9pm.


See you there (with two thumbs up),

Daniel

There are human activities we’ve practiced for millennia, and others that are relatively new. For example, Facebook was started in 2004, in Cambridge, Massachusetts, a town renamed in 1638 after a London university founded in the year 1209. Nearly three billion people now use this social media platform. Controlled fermentation began between 10000 and 6000 BC in what is now the Middle East, and almost every civilization since has included at least one fermented food in its culinary heritage.

Fermentation is the chemical transformation of organic substances into simpler compounds by enzymes produced by molds, yeasts, or bacteria, and it occurs without our intervention. Human-caused fermentation was first employed for the preservation of milk from camels, cattle, sheep, and goats; the dawn of cheese and yogurt. There is evidence of a fermented beverage made in China from rice, honey and fruit from 7000 BC, and people started making wine from grapes around 6000 BC in what is now the Republic of Georgia. One can imagine that weekly wine tasting flights, like those now at Oakland Yard, were in regular rotation shortly thereafter.

Ancient Egyptians first experimented with yeast in dough fermentation for leavening bread at least 6,000 years ago, and fermentation techniques developed there between 3,500 and 300 BC are still in use today. The Sumerians started making beer well before 2000 BC, and because they were the first to use a written language, there are many documents from Sumer related to brewing, including The Hymn to Ninkasi, a song of praise to the goddess of beer.

So, while posting on social media and surfing the web are rather novel activities for us, we have been writing, eating bread, and drinking beer and wine for a good long time, and after a two year hiatus from Oakland Yard’s weekly tasting flights, and two weeks without bread from States Coffee, we’re ready to get back to these these ancient practices with gusto. In addition to our newly reinstated Saturday afternoon tasting flights, this week, Oakland Yard will resume pouring THURSDAY NIGHT FLIGHTS. And, after a well-deserved baker’s holiday, and just in time for tomato season, States Coffee x Bread across the street will again sell loaves from Fridays through Mondays, beginning tomorrow, Friday the 5th. We’re also very excited to have our good friend and gifted winemaker, Brendan Willard of Phantômé Cellars, pouring his current lineup this Saturday!

TONIGHT: THURSDAY NIGHT FLIGHTS – Italian Reds & French Whites. Flights $15 from 5-9pm and full menu of wines by the glass available too!

SATURDAY, August 6th: PHANTÔMÉ CELLARS tasting with winemaker Brendan Willard. Brendan pours flights of 4 California wines: reds, white and rosé - Flights from 2-6pm and wines by the glass all day until close.

Cheers,
Max

RIP, Choco Taco.

You’ve probably seen the announcement on social media. If not, I'm sorry to break some hearts at this early hour, but after nearly 40 years the ice cream treat with one of the most amusing names is no more. Editors note: I initially wrote "one of the most catchy names..." but just stumbled on a Twitter poll suggesting 25% of the population pronounce(d) it with a long O! (CHOE-CO instead of CHAH-CO) so now my heart is the one broken at this early hour, by humankind, yet again).

What I found curious, and actually quite sweet (no pun intended), was how this news was shared across the various channels - with many tagging friends to alert them to this momentous loss. A central idea here is that, to some, this was their treat. In the same way some might say pistachio is their flavor, the Sidecar is their drink, or Total Eclipse of the Heart is their jam, etc. You get the idea.

We encounter this in the day to day as well. The meaningful connections kept alive, the inherent choice made daily, weekly. One will say "I went to my barber, my butcher...". Theirs. And so simple and so significant: the idea that we are someone's "my" brings immeasurable joy to us. We are proud and honored to be your wine shop. And we hope to continue serving you for years to come. To be a particular treat - or a daily delight.

And though some mourn the end of Choco Taco, take solace - for some discontinued things do return... We are elated to announce that Weekly FLIGHTS are back at OAKLAND YARD beginning this Saturday! We'll have curated flights and guest winemakers and importers pouring dynamic wines (and occasionally spinning records:) here at the bar in the weeks and months ahead.

This Saturday (7/30), Joe Manekin of Mission Wine Merchants & Manekin Wine Co. will be pouring a stellar selection of wines from France, Spain, and Argentina.

Four wines (2 whites and 2 reds):
2020 Athletes du Vin Pineau d'Aunis
2021 Passionate Wines Criolla Grande
2020 Tresbolillo Albariño
2020 Frisach Blanco

Flights Saturday, 7/30 from 2-6pm, $15. Wines available by the glass - tonight - and all weekend too!


See you there,

Daniel

Last year at this time, Julia and I embarked on an extravagant journey. Not so much wasteful, or profligate, but extravagant in the original sense, from the verb extravagari, Latin for extra ‘outside’ + vagari ‘wander’. We wandered outside our coastal comfort zone, eastward, through the vast and sparsely peopled land separating the great oceans, and we found it was indeed possible to reach our birthplace, three thousand miles away, without ever leaving the ground. With our tiny Chihuahua on the armrest between us, we witnessed the dramatic beauty of Nevada, Utah, and Colorado, then the flat emptiness of the plains, gradually ceding farmland to the sprawling settlements of the northeast.

All along the way, we wondered, “what is this place and what has happened here?” and I used my phone to research the native people and local history of the land we traversed. The trip was fascinating, and we decided to do it again this year on a more northern route. In 1884, Charles Fletcher Lummis, a journalist and activist for Native American rights and historic preservation, walked from Cincinnati to Los Angeles in 143 days, noting “I was after neither time nor money, but life, in the truer, broader, sweeter sense, the exhilarant joy of living outside the sorry fences of society.” In recent years, motorists have completed the cross-country trip in less than twenty six hours, but at an average speed of 110 miles per hour, it’s difficult to see the fences, or lack thereof, so we plan to make it a leisurely seven day journey, staying with an old friend in Wyoming, and dear cousins in Michigan, on our way to the Empire State.

Our second annual trans-American extravaganza will begin on August 1st, and I’m tying up loose ends now: bottling vinegar, sampling wine club candidates, and planning in-store tastings beginning again next month. Last year at this time, the Oakland Yard tasting bar reopened after being shuttered for a year and a half, and Daniel and the gang resumed pouring glasses as Julia and I skipped town. This August, in our absence, they’ll be bringing back themed tasting flights and special guests behind the bar, and we’ve got stellar new team members, whom I know you’ll enjoy tasting with and getting to know. Keep an eye on our event calendar; Thursdays, weekends, and even Monday nights at Oakland Yard are about to get a lot more exciting. And do come by for a drink with me before I hit the open road.

Cheers,
Max

Six years on Saturday. My wedding anniversary. Six years ago Glenny and I were welcoming friends and family arriving from out of town and state. Julia was prepping for an epic rehearsal dinner. Max was preparing for his duties as officiant while simultaneously tuning his cello for the entrance music he would play for arriving guests and for the Armstrong redwoods and apple trees surrounding us that day.

All the prep and the hustle, the excitement and eventual exhaustion is very familiar this week, as we find ourselves mid move on this particular anniversary. Our landlord's family is taking over our home and we've had to settle a bit further east of the shop. But it's all good, we're practiced. We've moved five times together, from Brooklyn, NY to Occidental, CA, then to Guerneville. Finally to Oakland in 2015 (first application here accepted on my birthday). This is now our third move here in Oakland. Our two young daughters seem to like the new place, so we're happy (though Ellery had some initial concerns: How will the garbage truck find us here? Where will mom sleep in the new house? ).

Over the past six years at the shop, we've grown accustomed to a familiar phone request this time of year: "Do you have some boxes to spare?". So many neighbors and shop regulars moving homes, some just a few blocks and others further up and down the western coast to Portland or Seattle or LA... or much further across the county and beyond, to Bozeman or Boise, Austin or Asheville. And while we're sad to see good folks leave, we welcome the opportunity to meet and connect with new neighbors, to make new friends. And we continue to strive to be a space that makes this city truly feel like home to those still searching for that feeling. So please pass on the good word. Let your neighbors know about us. Forward a newsletter. Share an Instagram post. Or better yet, share a bottle. Have them over. Bring them in. Let's eat and drink together. Let's open boxes. Let's unpack. Everything in its right place.

See you soon,

Daniel

“The saving grace of all wine’s many graces, probably, is that it can never be dull. It is only the people who write about it who may sound flat. But wine is an older thing than we are, and is forgiving of even the most boring explanations of its élan vital.” - MFK Fisher

Last Sunday, July 3rd, was Mary Francis Kennedy Fisher’s birthday. An American author, who wrote eloquently about wine and food before Robert Parker and Jancis Robinson were born, Fisher was lauded by WH Auden as our country’s best writer of prose. In 1946, she became the first female judge on the California Wine Panel of the Los Angeles State Fair, and in 1963, she was a founder of the Napa Valley Wine Library. Erudite and unorthodox, MFK Fisher examined, through a prodigious series of deadly serious and whimsically playful essays, the simple pleasures of sustenance and their importance in the larger world.

And her larger world was tumultuous. It’s hard to imagine now, but there was a nationwide constitutional ban on the production, importation, transportation, and sale of alcoholic beverages from January 17th, 1920 to December 5th, 1933. Born in 1908, MFK Fisher turned twenty one during prohibition, the same year the stock market crashed, prompting the Great Depression. Her parents secretly ignored the alcohol ban and drank simple red wines with supper, whatever they could find that was good: “The wines had to be honest to be good, and good meant drinkable,” she wrote. Fisher began her writing career in the years leading up to the Second World War, and in How to Cook a Wolf, published in 1942, Fisher writes of air-raid shelter meals, rationing and shortages, stressing the importance of “living agreeably in a world full of an increasing number of disagreeable surprises.”

For MFK Fisher, it was not the quality of the meal, but the spirit in which it was prepared and consumed that was most important. A perfectly poached egg is not mundane, but beautiful, necessary, and sustaining, and we all have the power to transcend our troubles with a humble joy in properly satisfying our appetites.

“People ask me:” Fisher wrote, “Why do you write about food, and eating and drinking? Why don’t you write about the struggle for power and security, about love, the way others do? The easiest answer is to say that, like most other humans, I am hungry. But there is more than that. It seems to me that our three basic needs for food and security and love are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others. So it happens that when I write of hunger, I am really writing about love and the hunger for it. There is communion of more than our bodies when bread is broken and wine drunk.”

To the queen of comestibles: Oakland Yard salutes you! Happy Birthday MFK; thank you for the words of encouragement.

Cheers,

Max􏰀

My daughter was in a foul mood yesterday, channeling some particular frustration toward her mother, the closer target that morning. Like most four year olds (or so I presume) she was being obstinate about something or other, sitting rigid in full pout, arms crossed, a quiet fury beneath her brow. My wife endured the silent treatment long enough and checked back in on her: "How are you feeling, love?". Our daughter declined the olive branch and unlike most four year olds (I presume?), with eyes radiating sarcasm, her words acerbic and measured. "Take a guess...", she suggested, with a disconcerting intensity.

At the shop this past week, I confess that I've felt like an ass too many times to count now. A friendly inquiry somehow feeling like my foot in my mouth. As folks step up to the bar or bring bottles to the register, it's my usual habit to check in with the simplest, common question: How are you today? And what was once a quick and friendly exchange now brings a pause. Or a frankness I can appreciate. Pretty fucking terrible is not an uncommon response now.

It's been a brutal week - on top of a brutal year (Or two. Or six..). And I find I don't have the words anyone wants to hear, certainly not at a shop register. But in the past several days I've shared more eye contact - with regulars, friends, and so many strangers - for much longer than ever before. With many who just paused to shake their heads, after a no longer innocuous How's it going?, and looked up at me to communicate their despair. I've seen, acknowledged, and shared the sadness. The rage. The dejection. The injustice.

It feels distasteful, unpalatable at times like this, to sell wine - or to sell anything, I suppose. Callous to call attention to a holiday celebrating independence, with liberties and independence being taken from so many. So we won't talk fireworks or push picnics and Pinot. Just know that we are on your side and we are here for you. With you. We'll always check back in. Will continue to ask how you are doing and are OK with any answer, or none at all. Should you decide that gathering this weekend may be cathartic, or elect to celebrate some small joys, we'll be here when you need us. And should you decide that wine is welcome, or offers some respite, we are here to help, as always, in the humblest of ways.

In solidarity,

Daniel

“The logic of that move was impeccable, however...” These were the first words I recall from a series of lessons from my youth. The subject was not chess, but dinner service, and my teacher was the inimitable Jonathan Waters. I was wheeling a bussing cart toward the dumbwaiter, past a recently vacated table, and I’d stopped to collect a coffee cup or two. Mine was an efficient decision, and Jonathan a wise and gentle manager, so he complimented my choice before explaining that this was not how things were done. Bus tubs stay out of sight and carts keep moving; it was integral to the theater of service that guests remain blissfully unaware of anything remotely unsightly.

I learned that a good waiter does more than just get the order right, that there are hundreds of decisions that go into providing the best service. Why leave the salt and pepper on the table once entrees have been cleared? Why place the cappuccino with the cup handle pointing away from the guest? The term hospitality comes from the Latin hospitalitas, meaning friendliness to visitors, travelers or strangers, but the best hospitality requires imagining oneself in the place of one’s guest, and by doing so, anticipating their needs and desires before they arise. When practiced with confidence and skill, good hospitality provides nourishment and respite to the guest, and they feel cared for, because they are, and it’s good to feel cared for.

At Oakland Yard, Daniel and I have been fortunate in our effort to maintain a team of coworkers who understand why we do what we do, colleagues who know it’s not about the money, not about the exhaustive details of a wine’s production, and not about finding the perfect bottle to pair with an important meal, so much as it’s about connecting with people, getting them to relax their guard and remove their protective armor long enough to really feel cared for. Thank you Erica, Pablo, Ezra, Liv, Brenda, Anna, Caleb and Crystal. And those who came before you. Thank you for upholding Oakland Yard’s commitment to genuine hospitality. Your years of thoughtful service echo warmly in our space and provide the inspiration for us to continue on our careful mission.

Gratefully,

Max
 

Lots of celebrations this month. Looking back and looking forward. Honoring the vibrant lives of old friends, looking ahead to the first day of summer. I just returned from a family wedding amidst the spectacular splendor of Plumas county. My niece had her Bat Mitzvah last Saturday (Mazel Tov, Sadie!). That same niece and another’s birthday last week too. Father’s day coming quick. Juneteenth just around the corner. Pride month still going strong! And I have a bunch of other birthdays to keep in my head in June. My sister, my mother, my father all this month. My wife’s big day is next week.

This morning I’m trying to access the details of a special weekend celebrating her several years ago, a full year before we found the space on 40th St to open shop. Friends of Max and Julia graciously invited us and some friends to stay at their avocado farm in Toro Canyon, just east of Santa Barbara. In addition to a weekend of good food and great company - one of the highlights was a spontaneous day trip to a small, semi-secluded local beach.

A magical combination of cold wine and unusually warm water, waves breaking in steady gentle procession, a ridiculously perfect afternoon for fun and frolicking, for bocce and body surfing. At one point all dozen of us were in the water together and a moment I distinctly remember… three friends riding a gentle wave in together, nearly in unison. Everyone close by, smiling, laughing, my wife looking so happy, everyone looking so happy. Then, at that exact moment of euphoria, another being surfaces from the water. It's beyond ludicrous, but my brain registers it to be a baby dolphin for a split second. Instead, this little jellybean of a child emerges from the water in our circle - from completely out of nowhere. Like the viral photo of the girl laughing with a camel, she stands up, waist high, beaming and proud. Long black hair slicked back, chest out, chin up, her hands proudly on her hips - hero pose, in full Care Bear stare mode. Her little goggles flashing sunshine and rainbows straight out to the horizon. And I shit you not… this (maybe?) six year old child hollers out: "Now this is what I call living!", holding her smile, nodding to us in approval, with a calm, confident comfort I can only hope one day to know.

That tiny little miss sunshine, a bright cherry on our sunny day, slipped back down beneath the surface to whatever world of whip cream and wonder she exists. The moment was fast and fleeting, almost like a hallucination. I was so relieved, overjoyed really, that others could testify to seeing her too (we eventually saw her pop up again further down the shore, joining two waddling silhouettes which we presumed to be her grandparents, or her earth guardians for the day).


Happy Thursday. Happy pride month! Happy Juneteenth! Happy birthday to everyone this month. Every month! Get to the ocean. Get to the coast. Eat an avocado. Drink wine. Connect with friends. Circle up. Celebrate love. Introduce yourself to strangers. Beam with joy.


Much love,

Daniel

Ah June, here we are again, gingerly eying the summer with a longing, making plans we know may change. I’m looking forward to whatever happens, anticipating good times. There will be camping trips and barbecues, mountain hikes and beach hangs, long days and no school. This month, we focus on LGBTQ pride, and we are proud to be ourselves, and not just accept, but celebrate the differences that shape our vibrant culture. This season, nearly four hundred thousand salmon will swim along our coast, and we’ll catch and eat a good number of them. We’ll also enjoy apricots, cherries, corn, and the year’s first tomatoes, and a full ‘strawberry supermoon’ will shine this Tuesday, for June is the month for ripening berries. In the vineyards, fruit is forming on the fading flowers, and farmers are tilling rows, training vines, and thinning leaves, with a watchful eye on mildew and varmints, while, in the winery vintners are bottling, making room for the coming fruit, corking and labeling last year’s whites and rosés, as well as the rested reds from the previous year.

Here at the shop, we’ve got a ton of new wines and we’re happily anticipating the outdoor parties of the next few months. May this be the summer of street life in Oakland, of eating and laughing on stoops and porches, leaning out windows and shouting to friends, cocktails on the front lawn, and dancing on our sidewalks. This season, no hiding indoors or in backyards, let’s show each other how it’s done, and display for all the local verve and flair you always bring. We see you, and you are fabulous. Don’t stop. Turn it up. We’ve got a fresh lineup of new wines by the glass this week, and a slew of tables on the sunny side of 40th Street. Let’s meet at Oakland Yard, and take it from there!

With hope, pride and excitement,

Max

Please Note: Sunday 6/12 OAKLAND YARD will be closing early to join the Memorial Celebration of our friend, Jonno. We will be open 12-4 this Sunday. Thank you for your support and understanding.

"He made me feel like I was the best thing that had happened to him all day..."

We lost a dear friend this week. You did too. I don’t have the words for this, and feel inadequate eulogizing a man who was known so well, and meant so much to so many here in the East Bay and beyond. I met Jonathan ("Jonno") seven years ago, while Max, and countless other Chez Panisse alums, industry professionals, restaurant patrons, and neighbors have known Jonathan Waters for decades. 

And if you didn’t know Jonno, I might humbly suggest that in someway you did. Perhaps you never directly experienced his unique charm, his light lyrical cadence, his quick wit, his gentle presence - but somewhere when you experience true and genuine hospitality, and felt or feel your presence so utterly welcome… as a guest, as a stranger, as a human being - then, in some way, you know Jonno.

My earliest and most meaningful memory started with a poem. An invitation to a dinner party with him, several months before we opened the wine shop. In an industry where many prepare faces and façades- he was immediately welcoming, curious, and encouraging. I was lucky to spend time with him in these ways, brought into his circle through Max and Julia and their close friendship with him. A day or so before the dinner party, Jonno sent a note proposing that everyone bring a short poem to share. At some point during the meal these were read aloud - some sharing favorites, some their own original words. It was one of his many simple magic tricks, but no illusion - just a way of levitating hearts, of transforming a dining room to a space where each individual is seen, their voices heard.

And his generous spirit did not require reservations. Walk-ins were welcome. Julia has stories about going on runs with Jonno, and him addressing every random passerby with a smile, a hello...always connecting.

Like the quote at the top, from Kermit Lynch in yesterday's remembrance in the SF Chronicle, reflecting on such a loss, I’ve read so many other quotes and memories and observations the past few days and I keep thinking: So everyone felt this way about him too. But rather than quoting all the others, I'll leave you with this poem, which came across my feed (via Ramen Shop). A poem that Jonno himself chose to share with company at a recent dinner gathering. 

Small Kindnesses 
Danusha Laméris 

I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead — you first,” “I like your hat.”



Julia has organized a fundraiser to help support Jonathan's daughter, Hazel. With Jonno's passing, it is up to us-- his community-- to take extra care of her. Please join us in doing what you can to support Hazel's college education.
Click HERE to help.


All love,
Daniel

Every task has its tools. Climbers come with ropes. Doctors have their stethoscopes. Builders require many tools, while a writer can get by with just a pencil. We who work with wine rely heavily on our hands, but there are a few tools that help us get the job done. Some of us carry a utility knife - what Daniel calls the ‘slice-and-dice’. I tend to use my house keys to open and break down boxes; they are lighter than the knife and always in my pocket. Conscientious stockers use a marker when stacking in the storeroom to indicate which wines lie unseen behind the outer box. This written record of hidden boxes ensures the hunt for bottles involves more looking than lifting. So far we’ve got two tools: a fat Sharpie, and something sharp.

The third and final indispensable wine stocking tool is the hand truck, a two-wheeled vertical dolly with a toe-plate, which, properly wielded, can increase one’s lifting power fourfold and turn a back-breaking pile of boxes into a breeze. There’s a T-shirt from a weight lifting gym that could be an Oakland Yard shirt: it reads, “I lift things up and put them down again.” We receive between fifty and a hundred cases most Tuesdays, each weighing about thirty-six pounds, so the full load is somewhere between three thousand and five thousand pounds. We have to pick them all up and put them down again, with or without the truck, all two tons of them, but the hand truck means we don’t have to carry them far, and we can put them away four times as quickly. This tool has been around for a while, invented in the 4th millennium BC in Lower Mesopotamia, when the Sumerians inserted rotating axles into solid discs of wood.

At Oakland Yard, we kept our first hand truck for five and a half years, but one day last month our dolly disappeared. We looked in every corner. The truck’s not small and we haven’t many corners. Maybe Liv borrowed it for a gardening project? Or we lent it to Tacos Oscar? But it wasn’t Liv. And Oscar said no, adding that their hand truck recently went missing as well. Who steals a hand truck from the wine shop? Or two trucks from the same block? It will turn up, we thought, while carrying boxes one by one around the store, until last week, when we gave up, and Daniel went to the hardware store for a new hand truck.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that all is right with the world, and I’m still mystified by the missing hand trucks, but I am relieved to return to work with all of my trusted tools. If you drop by the Yard this week for a glass or a bottle, we won’t put you to work, but please bring the tools we’re all accustomed to - your mask, vax proof, and shirt and shoes - and also bring a thirst, for wine and laughter, a thirst for sharing all the love and sadness life throws at you, a thirst for time together, because time is all we really have, and together is the best way to spend it.

Cheers,

Max

p.s. Don’t forget to register your online vote for OAKLAND YARD... for Oakland Magazine’s people’s choice Best of Oakland awards. We’re the very last category in the Food & Drink section, and the polls close on May 31st at 11:00pm Pacific Time! Click HERE to VOTE!

One spring morning I was sitting on the floor of my classroom, reading Green Eggs and Ham to a second grader when one of my middle school students burst through the door, alerting me that someone had defecated in our second floor bathroom- on the floor itself - just inside in the stall entrance. Pandemonium briefly ensued, with a few of my eighth grade students deserting their confused K-2nd grade "reading buddies" to bolt for the bathroom, returning to confirm the worst. It's HUUUUUGE!, one shrieked, It's a SUPER BURIIIIITO! howled another, retreating from the restroom entrance.

And they were right. It was one of the largest I'd seen. The principal was on the intercom before we knew it - the bathroom locked down like a crime scene. An investigation quickly commenced. Bathroom logs (yes lots of puns that day) were collected and to everyone's surprise, the list was down to only two possible culprits. The biggest surprise was that neither suspect was a middle school student - and from my window, astonished, I watched a first and a second grader walking with heads down to the office. The craziest part was the difference between the two. One of them was a bundle of twigs barely over three feet tall - the other only a year older but four times the size, wearing a sleeveless shirt and chunky cotton wristbands, looking like a retired wrestler.

I presumed the little one was probably just a "filler" called in to detract attention from the obvious. But in the end I was mistaken about everything. There was no prank or vile vandalism. Just an gross accident. And to everyone's total shock it was the tiny boy. Big things in small packages they say. The two boys were still sitting near the office chatting and friendly when I stopped by, after walking some of the K-3 kids back to their classroom. You OK? I asked them, trying to convincingly display concern in such a ridiculous situation. I'll never forget the little one's sweet, sad nod and then the larger boy slapping him on the back, offering words he must have picked up from some uncle or sitcom or silly airlines commercial: He's fine, he just needs a vacation!".


We're looking at lots of sunny days and warm weather ahead. For any and all who need to get away - whether you're taking that coastal vacation or simply a day to escape, we're here for you. Come stock up! We've got loads of new rosés arriving weekly, new vintages and new bottles of crisp mineral whites and fresh, chillable reds. Orange wines and Pet Nats and other sparkling delights, cider, and sake... Pantry provisions too!. For relief. For picnics in the park and day trips to the coast, weekend getaways, unplanned parties, backyard BBQs. For your endless evenings of endless warmth ahead.

Cheers,

Daniel

Like a pothead in a dispensary, or a prep cook in a knife store, I experience an uncommon level of excitement in a wine shop. Whenever I travel, I visit the local wine merchants, out of curiosity, and to support the dwindling stock of brick and mortar small fries. Wine stores come in many styles.

There are the dusty liquor warehouses with stacks of Barefoot Peach Fruitscato, and there are the tin ceilinged, copper plated, Edison bulb lit museums of esoterica, with a miniscule selection of expensive Vin de France, all with cartoon labels. And for those of us who don’t want our wine to taste like Coca Cola or kombucha, there is everything in between. Wine lovers in the east bay are fortunate enough to have a number of decent wine shops to choose from, and I shop at most of them, but only Oakland Yard makes me feel like the proverbial kid in a candy store.

My favorite wine shops have:

1) a bountiful selection, with some familiar classics, and also wines I’m unfamiliar with. I’m always up for trying something new, but if there’s no Muscadet, and the only Beaujolais is from Louis Jadot, then I know I’m in the wrong store.

2) no bullshit, aside from an acknowledgement of its value as vineyard fertilizer. I’m looking for a purposeful lack of lifestyle-focussed products, flavored wines, and brands concocted by Constellation, E&J Gallo, TWG, Trinchero, or Bronco, the five enormous corporations that industrially produce more than two thirds of the ‘wine’ sold in the USA. Boardroom branding cannot erase the unglamorous fact that every bottle of wine is an agricultural product made with dirt, sweat, and manure.

3) salespeople who are knowledgeable and available, but not pushy or snooty. As with an excellent bookstore, or record store, part of the value of a quality wine store is that it comes with actual people, not algorithms, who delight in learning patrons’ preferences and turning them on to other wines they may enjoy.

4) visual appeal; it is clean and orderly, with neatly displayed bottles, and maybe even some fresh flowers.

5) good vibes, with thoughtfully chosen music, genuine smiles, and a a spirit of openness in which I can be myself, and feel that I belong there.

If you find - as do I and those who nominated us, thank you! - that Oakland Yard meets your criteria for wine shop excellence, then please help us thrive and grow by choosing us on Oakland Magazine’s people’s choice Best of Oakland ballot. We’re the very last category in the Food & Drink section, and the polls close on May 31st at 11:00pm Pacific Time, so get your votes in while you can!

Click HERE TO VOTE!

Thank you for your continuing support,

Max

No history lessons today about Cinco de Mayo, or at least nothing remotely political I promise you. I do find myself contemplating this calendar date today - and the peculiar personal histories that attach to particular dates, or spaces perhaps. Random occurrences and some maybe not so random. This morning I'm thinking of a little wine shop in Brooklyn that opened on Smith St, on an ordinary May 5th, 2004. A shop that would hire Max Davis one day... who would hire me there years later (and then hire the woman I'd marry years after). A date, a friendship, and a connection that would be reimagined and now lives on with OAKLAND YARD.

I think of two people I know, strangers at the time, who were randomly assigned seats next to each other, flying back to NYC on an ordinary May 5th. They exchanged numbers and met up for tacos and tequila that same night. They married a year later.

I know in my heart it's all simply random, but looking through my phone again today, it's hard not to be curious about some mystical math at times. Ask me to show you this photo here: my wife and I in a small hospital room, hearing our daughter's heart beat for the first time, on an ordinary May 5th.

Where am I heading with this? I certainly didn't begin writing you to alert anyone that they'll meet the person they will marry today. Or to convince anyone to get married. Or to remarry. Or to open a wine shop! But... if anyone is making such plans and commitments - or simply finding cause to gather and celebrate on small or grand scale, know that we are here for you and have staff dedicated to helping you with whatever wines are needed for the big day or special event. We'll help with pairings and parents, and we have the answers for any quantities, queries, and quandaries. We'll keep things fun and simply fuss free. We've been absolutely delighted to be a part of several weddings this year so far and our hearts are full knowing that we were chosen to be a small part of that profound joy.

I'll leave you with what started this... this brief note, about beginnings. This came through our store email and I'm still smiling about it this morning.

Hi there,
Hope this message finds you well! My partner and I are getting married and wanted to order our wine through you. One of our first dates was at Oakland Yard, where we both connected over a song that was playing. In fact, we'll be walking down the aisle to that song, Yo La Tengo's "Green Arrow" .


Happy May 5th,

Daniel

(If you read these, congratulations, K&E! :)

“At dawn, when you have trouble getting out of bed, tell yourself: ‘I have to go to work – as a human being. What do I have to complain of, if I’m going to do what I was born for – the things I was brought into the world to do? Or is this what I was created for? To huddle under the blankets and stay warm?” - Marcus Aurelius Antoninus

No one likes a complainer, but sometimes, when so many things seem to be going so very wrong, it’s hard not to feel like the world is against you. My friend Charles has a retort for every gripe: “Sad songs ain’t sellin’ this year,” he says, reducing your woe to a poorly timed ditty. You tell Charles you want something, and he’ll deliver his mother’s line: “The people in Hell want ice water.” This may sound unkind, but Charles helped teach me to think twice before whining, to have some personal agency, and to accept what I cannot change.

As a child, I was frightened of the strength of my emotions, and I remember wishing to do away with my ‘feelings’. I discovered quickly this was not an option (The people in Hell want ice water). As a young man, still seeking ways to mitigate the passions, I discovered Marcus Aurelius and Lao Tze, and I knit them together in my head to steel my heart, to carry life’s contradictions, and to hold my mind in peace. This is an ongoing project, but I thank Marcus Aurelius for giving me some of the important tools.

Born on April 24th, in 121 AD, Marcus Aurelius would have turned 1900 years old last Sunday. An ancient Stoic philosopher, like Epictetus, Seneca, and Cato, Marcus Aurelius was also the Roman emperor from 161 to 180. For Aurelius, Stoicism provided a framework for dealing with the stresses of daily life as leader of one of the most powerful empires in human history, and his rule was not without headaches: there were Parthian Wars, Barbarian invasions, and the Antonine Plague. Most likely smallpox, the plague was the first known pandemic during the Roman Empire, lasting from 165 to 180.

By all existing accounts, Marcus Aurelius was a wise, just, and kind emperor, a notable exception to the rule that absolute power corrupts. May we derive some inspiration and courage from his example and celebrate his legacy by being virtuous, focusing on the present, and drawing our strength from the good examples of others. Sad songs may not be selling this year, but honesty, optimism, and gratitude never go out of style.

Admiringly,
Max

There's an unusual amount of activity in the massive Chinese Elm just outside my front window. More noise than light, the foliage is currently so dense I can barely see sky, but the excessive chirping alerts me that the rain has let up.

I'll be heading to the shop soon, to receive new drops of wine, new arrivals and new vintages of perennial favorites - the steady, cyclical nature of selling an agricultural product. I'll pass Kaiser on my way, but without my 4 year old daughter who hollers every time we pass: That's MY building! That's where I was born...

Julia and I celebrated our birthdays this past week, with less hollering. I got to slip down south to visit my folks and some family and old friends. A strange and surreal experience to sleep in my old bedroom, now with my little ones. To push tiny Simone on park swings under the same oaks I scrambled beneath at her age, or chase Ellery over grasses that I played tag and soccer on with my brothers as kids.

On Monday, the Oakland Yard staff took a field trip to Sky Vineyards. on a remote peak of the Mayacamus Range between Napa and Sonoma, 2,100 feet up a nerve-wracking, one-lane road, where Lore Olds and his daughter Maya manage a dry-farmed fourteen-acre vineyard. All around the red volcanic soils and the gnarled, rugged vines, vibrant signs of life and resilience abound in a spot so recently devastated by the 2017 Napa fires. Black charred trunks surround the property in stark and strangely beautiful contrast to the vibrant hawthorne and lilacs, and brilliant bright poppies peppering the landscape. Looking out on a deck near the house, someone spotted a nest of newly hatched finches, their tiny yawping mouths calling out for nourishment.

We all took turns peeking at the nest through the space in the grate below our feet, feeling lucky to witness the brevity of that moment - those baby finches remain in their nest for only 12 days or so after hatching, then are off and on their way. Erica looked out and took a long, deep breath (and reminded me to do so as well, without saying a word), holding the moment, the tiny cries, the clean fresh air, the serene joy of it all.

Sorry for all the nostalgia. But I'm loving the light rain this morning. The AQI of 25. The chirping in the trees outside my window. I'm thinking of those little ones on Mt. Veeder, scheduled to depart this week, maybe even today. The thousands of miles they'll travel and explore, perhaps to return to their very same nest next year, as some species are wont to do.

Happy Thursday,

Daniel

We’ve experienced an odd lot of weather these past two weeks, with temperature swings from 45 to 85, and clouds, wind, and rain; nothing uncommon in some parts, but we’re used to 50 to 75 and none of that other nonsense. Witness the challenge our roadways pose to local drivers faced with a lick of precipitation. Perhaps the lions and lambs of March postponed their plans, preferring to pass the baton in April? And who says we don’t get seasons in the bay? We had summer last Thursday, followed by a blustery winter weekend, and on to spring showers today!

In astrological news, Jupiter and Neptune converged this week in Pisces, prompting dreamers to explore their creative and spiritual sides. Because Neptune takes 165 earth years to circle the sun, these neighboring planets’ last conjunction in the sign of the fish was in 1856, the year the Treaty of Paris ended the Crimean War, a conflict that began with Russia encroaching on territories under Ottoman control. Same year, 5,000 miles to the west, after months of clashes with federal troops due to frustrations with treaties proffered by the Territorial Governor, Native Americans raided the nascent settlement of Seattle. Meanwhile, 800 miles to the south, in Amador County, Swiss immigrant, Adam Uhlinger, began building what would become the oldest continuously operating winery in California.

Six generations later, are we very different from our ancestors? Have our technologies made us wiser, or more content? We are closer, more tightly bound, we people of the earth. As the Moroccan proverb goes: “When the pumpkin gives birth, the fence has the trouble” and the world today is full of pregnant pumpkins. I say, tear down the fences, and there will be no trouble. And big thanks to Adam Uhlinger for planting Vinifera vines in the Golden State. We now have 4,391 wineries in California, and that’s what I call progress!

Cheers,
Max

As you read this I am heading down Interstate 5, on my way to visit my folks down in Eagle Rock. Unlike some previous travel stories, I don't anticipate any strange weather delays and hope for smooth sailing.

While my wife and I have differing musical tastes, she is a formidable DJ for road trips with the little ones, finding balance and harnessing the particular energies in the car. Our younger daughter, Simone, born at the beginning of the pandemic, just turned 2 last week - so she'll get some special attention and her various musical requests honored for the most part. Oddly, even at her young age, Simone and I have mostly similar favorites. Many of her go-tos sound like campy broadway ditties or hokey Beatles knockoffs and I have no problem with that. Her older sister, Ellery, is all energy, seeking catharsis in her set lists, the more dramatic or downright zanier the number the better. And when I'm tired of feigning maturity, I'm generally down for her jams too. I implore anyone to crank up the volume and surrender to the concise 90 seconds of electropop that is It's Raining Tacos and let any and all blues or anxiety melt away.

Though I'll be about six hours south by car, and Liv currently twelve hours east by plane (in Portugal!) you'll certainly be in very good hands with Max and Ezra and the rest of the crew, Crystal, Brenda, and Erica. The team is there to help you find the perfect bottle or help you stock up for any weekend parties, adventures, or getaways you may have planned. For those simply stopping in for a delicious glass of wine tonight or this weekend, they'll have you covered too. I'm nearly certain the music will be better there, and the conversation more stimulating than our car ("Dad... last night I peed on my poo"). You can also count on the likelihood that you and I will be enjoying some good wine, quite likely at the very same time, in a joyful place, surrounded by good people. And yes, there will be tacos.

Keep everything warm for me,

Daniel