Kenwood had an old vines property, that was good. A while ago now. I sound like I know what I'm talking about. I don't. I just know if someone who pays attention poured me a glass and I liked it, I remember it, if it is other than just instantly pleasant.
The Renwood zin glass came after he and his wife picked me up from Sacramento to stay at their lalapalooza house in Napa (la la meaning big old creaking victorian in a state of maybe we can fix this up if we live long enough), showed me my bedroom in the sort of, mm, octagonal offshoot, with vases of garden roses, and asked if I'd like a glass of wine before retiring. Took me back downstairs to the room with the antique stencils, and so on, and poured a glass for each of us. Height of a kind of civilization between old friends.
On the other hand, the same maven of the Renwood and the Kenwood took myself and his wife to Beniger, and I didn't like anything at the tasting bar. Ptui.
I type this while imbibing some dreck chardonnay.