A Random Tuesday with Andy Erickson (Yes, That Andy Erickson)

Some of the best wine nights don’t start with a plan.
They start with a text.

On Tuesday, December 3rd, right in the middle of a perfectly ordinary workday, my phone buzzed with a message from my friend Dain. No subject line. No buildup. Just a simple alert that immediately rearranged my evening.

“THIS JUST IN!
One of the best winemakers in American wine is coming to Warhorse TONIGHT…
Andy Erickson (yeah, the guy who made Screaming Eagle) will be pouring his Favia wines from 5–7.”

That was it. That was all the convincing I needed.

I didn’t check my calendar. I didn’t ask who else was going. I didn’t even ask what wines he was pouring. When someone texts you same day about Andy Erickson casually showing up to pour wine, the correct response is always the same:

I’m in.

THE BEAUTY OF LAST-MINUTE WINE PLANS

If you’ve spent any time chasing great wine experiences, you already know this: the most memorable ones are rarely the most polished. They’re the ones that happen fast, feel a little chaotic, and somehow land you exactly where you’re supposed to be.

This was very much one of those nights.

Warhorse, for those who haven’t been, is one of Atlanta’s private clubs. The kind tucked inside an otherwise unremarkable office building. No big sign. No obvious entrance. If you didn’t know it was there, you’d walk right past it without a second thought. Inside, though, it’s a different story: dark, intimate, serious about food and wine, and quietly buzzing with people who clearly know what they’re doing.

I arrived to find the room already packed. Every table was taken. Every inch of standing room was spoken for. And Andy Erickson wasn’t even in the building yet.

So we did what wine people always do in moments like that: we waited, we chatted, we met strangers, and we talked about what might be getting poured once the bottles finally made it to the table.

ENTER ANDY ERICKSON

When Andy finally arrived, there was no grand entrance. No announcement. No ego. He walked in, rolled up his sleeves, and immediately started setting bottles on the table while everyone else stood around holding glasses and watching.

If you didn’t know his résumé, you might not realize you were standing in front of one of the most important winemakers in Napa Valley over the last 25 years.

Andy Erickson’s career reads like a greatest hits list of modern California wine: Screaming Eagle, Dalla Valle, Staglin, Harlan, Arietta, Mayacamas, The Hilt, the list goes on and on. But Favia, the winery he and his wife Annie founded in 2003, feels different. More personal. More intentional. Less about mythology and more about place.

That philosophy came through almost immediately once the pouring started.

OAKVILLE VS COOMBSVILLE: SAME HANDS, DIFFERENT VOICES

The tasting itself was intentionally simple: two wines, poured side by side, from the same vintage.

First up was the 2021 Favia Oakville Cabernet Sauvignon, poured by Chris Hall, Warhorse’s owner. Right out of the gate, it was generous and open with dark red fruit, plush texture, and a sense of ease that made it incredibly drinkable even without food. It was one of those wines that doesn’t ask you to think too hard, but rewards you if you do, which I scored 94 points.

Then I wandered over to Andy, who was pouring the 2021 Favia Coombsville Cabernet Sauvignon. Blackberry on the nose, darker fruit more like candy. This one had medium to light tannins and wasn’t as heavy of a mouthfeel as the Oakville. Definite 93 points.

That’s where the conversation really started.

Coombsville sits at the southern end of Napa Valley, closer to the bay. Cooler temperatures. Longer hang time. Naturally higher acidity. Andy explained it simply, without a hint of salesmanship:

“Oakville is usually more luscious and round. Very fruit-driven.
Coombsville tends to be more structured. More savory. Tighter.”

Same winemaking. Same approach. Same hands.
Completely different expression.

That’s kind of the whole point of Favia.

They don’t chase a house style. They chase vineyards. Annie focuses on the farming. Andy lets the sites speak. Minimal intervention. Native fermentations. Sensible oak. Balance over power. Wines that feel Napa-grown but not Napa-caricatured.

Standing there, glass in hand, tasting those two Cabernets side by side, it was impossible not to get it.

WHEN A TASTING TURNS INTO DINNER

At some point Chris Hall leaned over and casually changed the trajectory of the evening.

“Have dinner with him,” he said. “If you want to sit, Andy’s got more wine.”

That’s how these things happen.

One minute you’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder in a packed tasting. The next, you’re being invited to sit down for dinner with one of Napa’s most respected winemakers… on a random Tuesday.

We didn’t hesitate.

THE BEST KIND OF WINE DINNER

If you’ve ever been to a formal wine dinner, you know the drill: rigid pairings, scripted commentary, everyone politely nodding while pretending not to check their phones.

This was the opposite of that.

We sat down. Andy ordered wines he wanted to drink. The food came out when it was ready. The conversation wandered wherever it felt like going.

I started with a NV Krug Champagne Brut Grande Cuvée, poured by the glass like it was no big deal. Heavy. Delicious. A 93 pointer for me, and, a perfect way to reset the palate after the Cabernets and settle into the night.

Then came a 2020 Domaine Bernard Moreau et Fis Chassagne-Montrachet, bright and precise, with lemongrass aromatics and electric acidity. It paired beautifully with starters like cauliflower, salads, lighter dishes that let the wine shine and I gave this one 93 points.

For the main course I had ribeye and mashed potatoes. Andy pivoted completely and ordered a 2018 Château Beau-Séjour Bécot from Saint-Émilion. Fresh, vibrant, red-fruited, and exactly the kind of Bordeaux you want with a steak when you’re not trying to prove anything. An easy 92 points for me.

And finally, just when it felt like the night was winding down, Andy brought out one more bottle from his own lineup: 2021 Favia La Magdalena. Chocolate brownie notes on the nose. Open. Balanced. Effortless. The kind of wine that quietly reminds you why you showed up in the first place. Another 93 points from me.

WINE BRINGS PEOPLE TOGETHER (ALWAYS HAS)

One of the best parts of the night had nothing to do with what was in the glass.

I ended up sitting next to Bob, known affectionately as “Bob the Belt Man”, who runs a high-end leather goods shop here in Atlanta called House of Fleming. Belts, shoes, bags, flasks. The kind of place PGA golfers frequent. The kind of place where wine tastings somehow make perfect sense.

What started as casual conversation turned into stories about Milan, Italian workshops, and family-run factories that have been making beautiful things the same way for generations. Before dessert even hit the table, Bob was arranging introductions for my upcoming trip to Italy, promising to call friends, set up lunches, and make sure we experienced Milan the right way.

That’s the thing about nights like this. You come for the wine.
You leave with connections.

WHY NIGHTS LIKE THIS MATTER

By the end of the evening, I’d bought wine, made plans to visit Favia the next time I’m in Napa, and realized again why I love this world so much.

Great wine doesn’t live in tasting notes or scores. It lives in conversations. In last-minute invitations. In crowded rooms where the winemaker shows up late, shrugs it off, and pours anyway.

Favia’s wines are elegant, site-driven, and built to age, but more importantly, they’re made by people who clearly love what they do and who they do it with. Andy Erickson could lean on his résumé forever. Instead, he shows up, pours wine, answers questions, and stays for dinner.

On a random Tuesday. In Atlanta.

Those are the nights you remember.
Those are the stories worth telling.

And if there’s a lesson here, it’s a simple one:

When the text comes… say yes.