Storytime!
My friends at I were on a wine journey through the Okanagan, second day. Third for me, first for them, and we were on our return trip back to Penticton after just catching Blasted Church before they closed when we discovered one solitary winery in the region was open after 5:30 pm. In fact, even though it might have since changed, Crescent Hill Winery was on this day open until 7. That’s amazing, and wise given that it corners the market as people return to their hotels after a long day of drinking. So, with literally no other options, we drove for Crescent Hill.
I didn’t claim it would be long, interesting, or even necessary story. Still better than Armageddon.
This exuberant recommendation of an unembroidered hidden gem does come with a few caveats. The first is that as wineries go, Crescent Hill appears on par with those GMC Vandura Cargo Vans with the words “Free Candy” lazily sprayed on.
Seems legit.
There is actual garbage fringing the narrow lane down the hill to the limited parking. Even the sign indicating we had not missed the location was a makeshift board with the words “winery” scrawled across it. As I turned in, my friends thought we were about the drive into a Tobe Hooper film. There’s no flamboyance to the location; it’s all about function. I’ll also supplement that by saying renovations were underway and the finished product will probably be more personable.
Darn.
I kinda liked the ramshackle, like visiting your uncle’s moonshine operation…or so I’m told. The walls inside the cozy tasting room were unfinished. The bathroom sported a forsaken toilet surrounded by boxes, dust, and total lack of other facilities. This is not a place you go to celebrate a graduation or a recent breakup. You go in because of the reputation of the wine maker and for a truly personal exchange with said individual. These are the locations I look forward to, where all the elegance is stripped away, leaving only the truly important elements of a wine tour—drinking good wine and talking about that wine to who made it. The owner was delightful and knowledgeable, captivating us far past the moment where he made the sale. The bottles are simple yet surprisingly attractive.
It’s what’s inside that…wait, I just said that?
Okay, firstly, a lesson in life, that’s not true, though it is here, especially with my two favorite bottles, Consensual Chaos, and Hissy Fit. Amazing names, right? You were just thinking, wow, what do those taste like?
They taste like wine, seriously, what else would they taste like? Someone asked me what hints I picked up, the faintest soupçon of a possible vegetable perhaps, or the odd flutter of a good cheese. I responded flippantly by saying it had a winey flavor to it.
It’s good wine. One was a blush, the other a rose, though I thought those were the same thing. Even if you had better wineries at the time to go to, eventually, Crescent Hill will eventually be the only one left, so you might as well visit. You may end up buying something. In fact, odds are you probably will. And despite appearances, you won’t require a tetanus shot.