You’ve got a date. You’ve got your wheels.
Now all you need for a monumentally sexy getaway is miles of vineyards, fluttering Egyptian-cotton sheets and a turducken pizza.
Tell your phone to point you toward Stone & Embers, a postage-stamp-sized restaurant cranking out strange and wonderful wood-fired goodness, soft-opening this weekend at the Madrones in Anderson Valley.
You know the Madrones—a cluster of four private little hideout suites, about as Tuscan Sunny as it gets in those parts. Usually, you reserve one, you hit all four of the tasting rooms on the property, and then both of you are really in the mood to... take no more than 25 steps before sitting down for some pizza and ice cream.
And now, this. The resort’s lobby is officially a restaurant. All it takes is five Douglas-fir two-tops, a Mugnaini pizza oven (aka the Porsche of pizza ovens) and a chef who’s decided to channel some of his Bouchon kitchen time toward his true passions: piping-hot turducken-topped pizza and piping-cold basil ice cream.
He made the dough. He grew the basil. He rustled up some excellent wine.
And yes, “housemade turducken” is a thing you might say now.
Now all you need for a monumentally sexy getaway is miles of vineyards, fluttering Egyptian-cotton sheets and a turducken pizza.
Tell your phone to point you toward Stone & Embers, a postage-stamp-sized restaurant cranking out strange and wonderful wood-fired goodness, soft-opening this weekend at the Madrones in Anderson Valley.
You know the Madrones—a cluster of four private little hideout suites, about as Tuscan Sunny as it gets in those parts. Usually, you reserve one, you hit all four of the tasting rooms on the property, and then both of you are really in the mood to... take no more than 25 steps before sitting down for some pizza and ice cream.
And now, this. The resort’s lobby is officially a restaurant. All it takes is five Douglas-fir two-tops, a Mugnaini pizza oven (aka the Porsche of pizza ovens) and a chef who’s decided to channel some of his Bouchon kitchen time toward his true passions: piping-hot turducken-topped pizza and piping-cold basil ice cream.
He made the dough. He grew the basil. He rustled up some excellent wine.
And yes, “housemade turducken” is a thing you might say now.
