A friend recently asked me how I remember all these stories from my youth. I grew up in a large family and the retelling of stories (particularly ones where I makes an ass of myself) was a favored activity. The repetition really anchored most of these tales. 

But memory is a strange and fascinating thing and can be misleading. For the longest time I had two very distinct and special memories of my grandfather. He passed when I was still very little, but he always made such a sweet show of things when I’d visit him with my mother. He knew I was crazy for those Sunkist Fruit Gems he always had on hand, often in the freezer. They were not so unusual- just small, gummy pectin discs with a pleasingly textured sugary crust. But he would arrange them on a tray for me as if they were little delicacies and we’d split a Ginger Ale. Just two gentlemen, equals, sitting down for a drink and a simple treat. It was always the best.

The other memory is the more peculiar one. A rollercoaster at Disneyland. A distinct memory of riding this coaster with him. In my mind, forever, I am around 4 or 5 and riding the coaster on his lap. It's not Thunder Mountain but one of the smaller “kiddie" ones. But my mom set me straight on the math years ago. No way. No possibility of rollercoasters in his shape by that time. What we were able to piece together is that my recollection was a cloudy memory of visiting him in the hospital on various occasions toward the end. Such a large, white building with odd halls and banners and flags and crosses. And it was all so bright to me and there was, surprisingly, joy. He would be so happy to see his grandkids and he would put the smaller ones like me on his lap and wheel us around the hospital’s hallways with a great laugh, though he was likely in great pain. 

The internet is full of folks chronicling what a wretched year 2016 has been, with so many great losses. I don’t know what 2017 has in store for all of us. But I thought of my grandfather this morning and remembered a man who could turn a hospital into Disneyland. It is this spirit that our little wine shop embraces, now and in 2017, and always. Whatever we all individually or collectively face- we will be here for you. A bright station on your journey. We are here with a smile, with a laugh- here to do whatever we can to make things better. 

Since sitting on our laps would be a bit weird, come join us for a flight of bubbly to lift spirits and get the celebrations for 2017 started early. We’ll be showcasing 4 different sparkling wines and have additional bubbles available by the glass. 

TONIGHT (Thursday, December 29th) at OAKLAND YARD

ALL SPARKLING FLIGHT- 3 wines, $15

TASSIN NV CHAMPAGNE (Pinot Noir, Chardonnay) Champagne, FR
Domaine La Taille Aux Loups NV Brut Tradition (Chenin Blanc) Montlouis-Sur-Loire, FR
Elke 2011 Madame Elke Brut (Chardonnay, Pinot Noir-MethodeTraditionnelle) Mendocino, CA


Please Note: OAKLAND YARD will be OPEN New Year's Eve from 10-8PM and will be closed on New Year's Day. 

Introductions: Max and the Oakland Yard Wine Club

My name is Jonathan, but most people call me Max, and I am a dedicated wine lover. 

If my business partner, Daniel, were Lou Costello, I would be his William "Bud" Abbott, lanky and laconic. 

Unlike my friend, Daniel, I don’t have a lot of stories, but I would like to tell you a bit about our shop and some of what we have to offer: 

Basically, we’ve collected as many of our favorite wines as possible- from decades of drinking and tasting - and we’re really excited to share them with you. 

We have sixty quality wines, well-balanced and off the beaten path, available for under sixteen dollars a bottle, and another four hundred distinctive selections lining the walls, stellar examples ranging from the classic to the obscure.

We feature well-priced tasting flights of selected wines Thursday evenings and Sunday afternoons, and we welcome folks at all times to enjoy bottles of their choice in the shop for a nominal corkage fee.

I’m also pleased to announce the launch of our Oakland Yard Wine Club. For $42 a month + tax, members will receive 2 bottles we think are extra special and delicious, as well as a 20% discount on all of our public tasting events. 

Club wines will be available for pickup on the first Sunday of each month, at which time members are invited to join us for a free tasting flight. Please call us or stop in to sign up and receive your first installation on Sunday January 8th!

TASTING FLIGHTS AT OAKLAND YARD THIS THURSDAY, December 22nd  

Two flights – one red, one white – three wines each - $12 per flight

This week’s lineup features the HOLIDAY FAVORITES:

2011 Biga de Luberri Crianza Rioja

2012 Yannick Pelletier l’Oiselet St. Chinian

2015 Harrington Central Coast Pinot Noir

2014 La Mesma Gavi

2014 Samuel Tinon Birtok Dry Furmint

2015 Teutonic Wine Company Willamette Valley Pinot Gris

Daniel and I enjoy, and are dedicated to, helping you find the wines you most like to drink. Drop in and try something new; we look forward to meeting you!

Cheers,

Max

My mom told this story to me when I was little. I can’t remember if it's an old joke or a memory. But it serves a purpose here, so I’ll proceed. An aunt is preparing either a ham (or a roast?) for a holiday dinner. She cuts off a couple inches from each end before putting it into the oven. Her kid inquires why she cuts off the ends. “Well… it, um kind of locks the juices in”. She trails off and calls her brother. 

“Mike, why do we cut off the ends of the ham?” 
“Just a couple inches from one side” he blurts out. 
“No, Mike, I’m asking why”. 
“Well… it’s um… gives it, uh, helps caramelize them, I think”. 

This goes on and all eventually all siblings are called. Various prepping and basting techniques are challenged and they play phone tag into the evening, all the while continuing to argue the number of inches and the reasoning behind cutting off the end(s) at all. After some delay, they reluctantly go to the source, grandma. 

Her head shaking can heard through the phone line. “I just cut enough off the end until it fits in my roasting pan.”

.   .   .

We’re gonna be rolling out our wine club next week. Some folks suggested we should just see what other shops are doing and offer something similar. I remembered the ham story.

Lets get this right, from the start. We are less interested in what other shops are doing and more interested to know what you would like, and how you want things done. We aim to make you happy. No discarded trimmings here. No random practices or arbitrary rules. This is your shop. Many of you have already shared what you are looking for (what kinds of wines you’d like to receive, ideal monthly costs, etc) and we are eager to put something out that will make you dance. Phone lines (and emails:) are open. DJ is taking requests. So give us a shout and let’s get cooking. 

Speaking of requests…

I’ve had some folks ask recently if we’d do a tasting of unusual varietals that they might not normally try. So we are doing just that. Tonight! Thursday Night Flights are on, from 4-8. Bite your tongue, Tom Jones, we’re going Cyndi Lauper on this one. Six amazing, dynamic and delicious wines: $12 for 3 whites (Jacquere, Roditis, Gutedel) or 3 reds (Marsellan, Schiava, Kadarka). Unusual and awesome, like you. Choose your own adventure tonight.

See you soon,

Daniel

I'm mostly cautious by nature, until something captures my imagination. I fall in love quickly and hard. I’ll binge watch without remorse. The first time I attempted to ride a skateboard I immediately tried to ollie over a discarded toaster. No beginner's luck there. My chin proved to be very effective at breaking falls. Two years (and 16 stitches later) I would be ice skating for the first time. An axel looked easy enough on TV. It was not. I chipped off my two front teeth and split my lower lip wide open.
 
Against most odds I turned 10. Around this time I noticed that a new girl named Rosemary had moved into the neighborhood. Taking a predetermined route, I walked past her house one day to discover her friends, Anna and Carolina, doing cartwheels on Rosemary’s front lawn. My older sister was a cheerleader at the time and had taught me how to do a round-off. I thought it a stellar idea to dazzle these ladies with my secret talent. What girl wouldn’t want a guy who can do a round-off? One would think I’d have learned something about being so ambitious with my flourishes, but one would be wrong. I broke into a focused run and planted my hands. I didn’t know that their lawn had been watered the day before. The earth was too soft and my fingers sunk right it. I crashed in a clumsy pile but tried to salvage the moment, employing my momentum to summersault up to my feet. All part of the routine!  When up and ready to accept my scores, I didn’t have to worry about hiding my eyes- no one was looking at my face. They were all focused on my hands, their eyes unusually wide and full of fright.
 
I had dislocated both my thumbs at both joints and they were bent back acutely nearly to my wrists. It was grotesque. I excused myself and once around the corner my eyes begin to water and my pace quickened to a panicked run. I kept my hands held high the whole way home, a ridiculous spectacle of surrender.

 
This Saturday is our Grand Opening Party, from 4-8pm. There will be no tears and (hopefully) no broken bones or chipped teeth. But rest assured that I have not learned my lesson. There will be no holding back this enthusiasm and fervor. Joy is unrestrained at OAKLAND YARD, this day and always. Thumbs up. And luckily for me, the team here is far more composed and far less clumsy than I. Max is calm and in control. He already has bottles of bubbly chilling, ready to be popped, and holiday wines selected and snuggled in happy 6-pack totes. Julia and Glenny are kicking ass in all kinds of ways, prepping amazing small bites for your enjoyment. Friends are joining us to pour and pass plates and put your minds at ease. And yes, you can expect a flourish or two. I'll do my best not to make a mess and to remain in one piece.


See you all Saturday, hopefully sooner.


Daniel

I grew up in a neat neighborhood for a kid: tiny, winding streets barely wide enough for cars to pass and little houses stacked on top of each other. We were the loud family, seven practicing troublemakers cycling about, reenacting scenes from Goonies and E.T. and Tron, mostly happy interrupting the serenity of this little hillside. We had colorful neighbors like Dan-the-Ice-Cream-man, his Red Rooster truck our personal candy store. There was the kindly Opal and Cecil and the elderly Norwegians, Leif and Hilda. We would sneak into their backyard and crowd into their hot tub. They would pretend not to notice. There was the widow Scarvacci. One of my brothers convinced me her late husband had passed and that she kept his body in there. I was a gullible (and often frightened) child.

Then there was Pearl. Pearl was infinite. She had strange, grotesquely disproportionate pillars erected outside her tiny house, a Gone With The Wind nostalgia project gone horribly awry. My brothers avoided her house on their walks, but I would often forget and would be beckoned with hard stares and cries of “Lemonaaaaade”. I had to make excuses why I had to be home straight away. One day though, she got me. She called out and locked on me. I stammered and simply went blank with no good excuse. I was in her Tractor Beam and walked to her door with a limp “OK”. With silent glee she led me to her kitchen and sat me down at her green formica dinette. I stared at the ceiling hoping to be saved by my mother’s distant call, while Pearl mixed her famous concoction.

A fun ending would be for me to share that it was the finest lemonade I have ever tasted to this day. That would be a good ending. But Pearl’s lemonade was, in truth, pretty awful. It was just an old lemon squeezed into room temperature tap water. She apologized for being out of sugar. I sipped in silence and eventually excused myself. At a polite distance from her home, I broke into a run.

This evening we kick off our wine tasting program. It will be nothing like Pearl’s lemonade (well almost: no sugar here either). These wines are the real deal. All lively and vibrant and dry. Crazy delicious. $10 for 3 wines. Red Flight or a White Flight. Choose your own adventure tonight from 4-8pm*. Additionally, there will be an all Rosé Tasting this Sunday from 12-4 ($10, 3 wines). We will be hosting tastings every Thursday night and on Sunday afternoons from here on. Get on board.

Finally, we are also thrilled to announce our Grand Opening Party on Saturday, December 10th. Small bites and free bubbly from 4-8. Magnum raffle too! Bring your friends, your trouble-making siblings, your kindly neighbors, or an elderly Norwegian.

See you soon,

Daniel  

No stories today. 

These are the days for your own stories. Turkeygates and surprise nut allergies. Burnt pies and surprise guests. Weird aunts you didn't know you had. Overindulgence. Late night calls from exes. Remembering an old friend, jello. 

Celebrate hard. Love harder. Enjoy yourselves.

We are thankful for you.

And we are are here for you if you need us. We are open today from 10-4.

Stop by if you need a break from the in-laws, or any last minute wines, bad puns, or big hugs. We are here for you, happily.

Much love from Oakland Yard.

I don’t remember the precise age, but I can remember everything else about the day I first heard the words: sharkskin suit. My dad, who had just treated me to a cone of Chocolate Malted Crunch at Thrifty, was joking around with one of my older brothers about wearing such a suit to their Winter Formal dance. I laughed too, pretending to get the joke, but was secretly filled with fear and wonder. 

Not even a week later, I would be even more captivated. Two words again, and truly spellbinding: Chicken Slacks. The oldies radio station was common ground for our family and there was a lot of Sam Cooke in rotation. I loved “Twisting the Night Away”, particularly after the very odd dance scene from Innerspace. There is a verse in the song where a guy is tearing up the dance floor with a woman in memorable pants, but instead of hearing “chick in slacks” I thought the line was “…he’s dancing with the Chicken Slacks!”

And I wanted them. I wanted their feathery fabulousness. I would show them all when the time came for my first Winter Formal. But the time would never come. I would quickly be crushed to find out that chicken slacks do not exist and would be teased mercilessly but my older brothers when I had inquired about such an outfit.

There will be no such disappointment for you, my friends. No one will crush your dreams. The whispers and rumors and fantastical tales are true in this case. The wait is over. OAKLAND YARD is officially open. And just in time. We will be twisting and laughing and singing and slinging wines all week, and we have an insane amount of fresh, lively wines that will be perfect for your Thanksgiving weekend. We are open from 4-8pm today and will be celebrating. We can’t wait to meet you. We are kicking off Happy Mondays tonight and all wines (every Monday night!) will be 10% off (and yes, that includes the 60 delicious wines in the $10-15 range we have here as well).

Put your troubles on the run and get down. We look forward to tearing it up together.

See you soon,

Daniel

Vader. Voldemort. Sauron. The Fratellis. El Guapo. 

Many evils and many struggles, but good always prevails.

And now, sadly, a very real villain.

We too are are reeling from the final results of the election and our struggles here in our little shop seem insignificant in many ways. But we began this venture to create something that could, in a small or profound way, connect people. And we still think this is worth it. 

We've come so far on our journey to bring you the best wines you can drink. Wines you can share with loved ones. Wines for commiserating or for celebrating. We have faced many trials along the way. We went mano y mano with the Department of Health. We were beaten back by the Department of Building. Our brave friend and fabricator, Jens, went finger to blade with a temperamental table saw.

But this is indeed a good fight and good will prevail. Sometimes it takes a while.

So with our hearts bursting, we wanted to let you all know that our planned celebration for this Saturday, November 12th, will be postponed. We’re asking you to wait just a little bit longer.  We need you to stay strong, to survive. No matter how long it takes, no matter how far.

So many of you have stopped at our door to connect and to share your enthusiasm or words of encouragement. This has meant the world to us. Know that we are indeed in our final stretch here and that the wait is now measured in days, no longer months or even weeks. There will be shouting from the rooftops soon.

And while there is much fear and uncertainty of what lies ahead in the coming years, know that Oakland Yard will be a place of warmth and welcome for everyone.

We're with you.

Two things happen on the first day of kindergarten, September 1983. 

Parents are invited to stay for the morning, and they sit beside their kids in a circle to begin the day. We go around sharing “fun things we do at home.” One mom teaches us what a “bear hug” is, and we all practice this new maneuver one pair at a time. When it's my turn, I freeze. I refuse to hug my mom in front of these strangers and won’t be bullied by the staff. She looks kinda bummed. I remember feeling badly about it. I still do. 

The second act is different, although I wouldn’t necessarily say I redeemed myself. We’re in a circle again and are sharing songs we learned at home. A boy named Andrew opens with Twinkle Twinkle and suddenly everyone joins in. Whitney and her mom follow up with: “Baa Baa black sheep …” and soon it's a full chorus of “Yes sirs!” and smiles all around. This goes on for a bit. When it’s my turn, there's barely a pause before I strut into the center and belt out: “IF you think I’m sexy AAAAND you want my body, COME on baby let me know…”. There are gasps, daughters' eyes and ears are covered, adults exchange nervous smiles and some head shakes. The house is not “brought down” as I’d hoped. My mother looks somewhat mortified, but I know at that moment, deep down there is a swelling pride. A silent electricity. Her house wins. I don’t feel bad about it. I never do.

November 12th, 2016 is our Grand Opening. Our “first big day.” It will be a day of a thousand bear hugs. A thousand songs. It will be electric. Oakland Yard will not be a nursery rhyme kind of place. There will be no tidy circles. Dance, strut. Go on with your bad selves. Share your fun. Come be a part of this. 

Saturday November 12th, 12-4PM. Bubbly, bites and bands. Free!

All joy. No regrets. 

See you there, friends.

I'm not good at beginnings. 

I'm worse at endings.

Selena Sullivan was not my first girlfriend, but she was the first girl I pursued. I decided I would write her. I was in second grade. It was a short note. It said: YOU ARE NICE. Mrs. Carnevali confiscated the note and moved my seat assignment elsewhere. This kind of heat was not encouraged. 

I later chased a woman to New York in 2009. It ended much worse than my courtship of Selena. I took a job at a wine shop in Brooklyn. I was walking home after my shift one night and realized my bag was unusually heavy. I had only worked there a month but the manager had remembered my birthday. He had tucked a bottle of champagne away for me.

His name was Max. Max rules. He and I are opening a shop together. It's called Oakland Yard. You probably know that much already.

But there’s much more ahead. There is cause for excitement and celebration. A grand opening party, weekly wine and beer tastings, food trucks and food pairings... dogs and cats living together. All this and much more in the months to come. And you’ll always be the first to know. Thank you for signing up. You are nice. You are awesome. 

Mrs. Carnevali is not going to stop this love.

It's going to be epic. Action and adventure. Big smiles, big love, birthdays and bad days turned around with bottles of bubbles.

This is just the beginning, and I’m not good at those. Its going to be too much fun to bother with an ending.

Let's do this.