By Bruce Neyers

Tuesday 15th September, 2026

By the late 1990s, I’d been with Kermit Lynch for almost a decade, and Barbara had been a line cook at Chez Panisse a little bit longer. As part of my job, I was traveling to Europe frequently, but Barbara and I hadn’t spent much time there together. We decided to change that and enlisted Barbara’s mother to come from Delaware to babysit for a couple of weeks. We spent a week in France, then began a trip through Spain. My longtime friend, Colman Andrews, knows Spain as well as many of those who live there, and he assembled a driving itinerary for us that ended in Madrid. Alice Waters was planning to be in Madrid at the same time we were, so we arranged to meet her there. The prospect of three days with Alice anywhere was attractive to me, as I knew we’d eat well. She was accompanied by her then husband, and we all stayed at the same hotel. She had made our dining plans, so we simply followed along. We ate and drank like American royalty.

On our third day, we were up early for a private tour of the Prado, and when we finished, we began to think of lunch. Our guide directed us to the large outdoor dining plaza in Madrid and offered the names of a few restaurants. As we visited each one, Alice examined the menu and then turned away. I asked her what she was looking for, but she said she didn’t know. We visited 6 or 7 dining spots that seemed perfectly adequate, but not one satisfied her. Soon, we were out of the plaza and on a nearby back street. I noticed Alice walking down a side alley. As I approached her, I saw that she was looking attentively through the plate glass window of a small restaurant. I joined her, and on the other side of the window was a man cooking in an area not much larger than the desk in my hotel room. Past him I could see four tables, each occupied with diners, and past them was a bar, occupied as well. A man was behind the bar, and behind him were several racks filled with wine. The cooking area was divided into three sections: a deep fryer, a griddle, and a small charcoal grill. Alice looked at me, and I knew immediately that this was it. We walked in just as four diners stood to leave. The man behind the bar cleaned off the table and quickly seated us. He advised us that the lunch menu was a prix fixe meal of his brother’s choice. The chef came out from behind the kitchen area, and in perfect English told us the meal would be a first course of deep-fried calamari. They were caught that morning, and he had just cleaned them. We would then have calves’ brain, sautéed on the griddle – a first for me. The main course would be charcoal grilled leg of baby lamb, grilled on one of the smallest charcoal grills I’d ever seen. His brother, he said, would select the wines.

The meal was stunning, easily the best food we had in Spain, and probably the best meal we’d had on the trip. The first wine was a delightful Spanish white, perfect with the fresh calamari. We moved on to a light, fresh red – served chilled with the calves’ brains. With the leg of lamb, we had an absolutely stunning Carignan. Our sommelier explained the many virtues of Carignan, especially its compatibility with charcoal-grilled meats. After drinking it, I vowed to never look at Carignan the same way again.

Soon after my return from that trip, Tadeo Borchardt came to work for us as winemaker, and I learned he shared our fondness for Carignan. Not long afterwards, he advised me that Frank Evangelho had some old-vine Carignan in his Oakley Vineyard, and he’d love to work with us. We’ve been working with those grapes ever since. Occasionally Barbara will charcoal-grill a leg of lamb, and I’ll open a slightly chilled bottle of our Carignan. It takes me back to that experience in Madrid, where a bottle of Carignan accompanied what I still think of as one of the greatest meals of my life.

Our Neyers Carignan from the Evangelho Vineyard is rich without being clumsy and complex without being overbearing. It’s a high spot in my day whenever we open one. The fruit is bright and attractive; the flavors are fresh and exotic; and the finish is long and gratifying. I can’t begin to tell you how much fun it is to drink.

Cold Black Bean Salad with Jalapenos and Sour Cream

Ingredients

• 2 cups cooked Rancho Gordo Ayocote Negro or Negro de Vara beans
• 1 red or yellow bell pepper, cut into small pieces
• 1 cup cherry tomatoes – depending on the size, they may need to be cut in half
• 2 jalapenos, seeds removed and minced
• 1/2 cup cilantro leaves finely chopped
• Kosher salt and fresh ground black pepper
• ½ cup sour cream
• Vinaigrette
• 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
• 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
• 1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil

Preparation

1. Combine the Dijon mustard and the red wine vinegar. Slowly whisk the olive oil into the mixture until thickened and set aside.
2. Combine the cooked beans, red or yellow bell pepper, cherry tomatoes, jalapenos, and cilantro with the vinaigrette.
3. Add salt and pepper to taste.
4. Serve the bean salad and top each portion with sour cream.